V 


TIIK 


OR, 


The  Key  to  a  Nobler  Life 


BY 


C.  E.\ SARGENT,  A.  M. 


WITH  LETTER  OF  INTRODUCTION 
BY 

MRS.  LUCRETIA  R.  GARFIELD. 


KING,  RICHARDSON  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.      DBS  MOINES,  IOWA. 

SACRAMENTO,  CAL. 

189O. 


ftm  1 1 1  inniiiifai  10  Ad  <*&****,  fai  UM  r*"  ««1.  W 
Wtu_  C  Kim, 

i  ir  ^-    -*-'i  i  nil  i--iiiifiu ii—  iiiiiim  ,r  r 


peace  be  in  thy  home 

y  within  thy  h 


Ed.  /Psych, 
Library 


PREFACE. 


HE  reader  will  notice  that  we  have  confined 
ourselves  in  the  treatment  of  this  work  almost 
exclusively  to  what  is  termed  the  "  scientific 
method."  We  have  not  only  regarded  home 
itself  as  an  institution  of  nature,  but  in  the 
treatment  of  almost  every  subject  we  have 
tried  to  involve  the  exposition  of  some  related 
natural  law,  because  every  relation  of  the 
home  life  is  the  outgrowth  of  some  law  of 
our  nature  or  of  our  surroundings.  It  has  been 
our  aim  to  make  this  book  a  scientific  treatise  on  the  vari- 
ous phases  of  the  home,  and  in  this  respect,  so  far  as  we 
know,  it  stands  alone. 

We  have  chosen  to  consider  the  various  relations  of  the 
home  life  from  this  standpoint,  from  a  conviction  that  so- 
ciety has  come  to  need  something  more  substantial  than 
those  mere  expressions  of  sentiment,  which,  for  the  most 
part,  constitute  the  books  of  this  kind  that  heretofore  have 
been  given  to  the  public.  Many  very  entertaining  books, 
however,  have  thus  been  produced,  but  the  undisputed  fact 
that  all  the  while  the  old-time  home  love  has  been  slowly 
but  surely  fading  away,  is  sufficient  proof  that  they  have  not 


1503271 


iT 

-bed  the  obj-  h  they  were  written.     It 

ia  true  that  the  word  "home"  is  on- 
in  human  language,  that  t 

iU  origin  to  an  innate  .*•  '1  that  this  eiir 

like    all   others  grows  at  its  own  a< 

cssions  of  sentiment   Li 
the  great  number  of  those  beautiful  pro>«  <lur 

he  post   fetr  years  have  been  often 
show  how  deep  and  i: 
in  spite  of  all 

ing  the  '<•  -  monster  of 

'•  pres- 

•me  love  and  reverence  by  a  more  ra- 
tional and  si  H  of  il.  relatioi: 

..it  can  save  socie;  k. 

afe  is  to  the  social  lit.-  \\h.it  ti.. 

movf  i-ord- 

thegrt-..' 

| 

does  not  tin  '  the  bearings,  t 

move  .        hain- 

Therc  are  certain  diseases  whose  symptoms  are  cl 

1   1>\ 

constitutional  remedies.     B  charactr 

those  moral   diseases  that  af  nan  sot  1   tlic 

remedies  we  have 


PREFACE.  T 

edies.  The  one  organ  we  have  aimed  to  reach  is  that 
which  is  the  most  central  and  vital  of  any  in  the  living 
body  of  society — the  home. 

Society  is  agitated  to-day  over  the  startling  problem  of 
divorce,  and  yet,  with  all  its  attendant  evils,  divorce  must 
be  regarded  only  as  a  symptom  of  a  fatal  disease  that  is 
preying  on  the  vitals  of  society.  Intemperance  and  licen- 
tiousness are  symptoms  of  diseases  that  can  be  reached 
only  through  the  organ  of  home. 

What  the  home  is,  society  will  be.  The  moral  corrup- 
tion and  the  dark  vices  of  the  city  would  perish  in  a  single 
aight  did  not  their  cancerous  rootlets  reach  down  into  the 
ixmlness  of  perverted  homes. 

Still,  what  a  world  would  this  be  were  it  not  for  the  in- 
stitution of  home!  How  would  the  streets  of  the  great 
city  be  turbulent  with  lawless  outcries  at  midnight  did  not 
the  Great  Father,  through  the  kindly  shepherd  of  a  natural 
law,  send  his  children  at  night,  to  the  fold  of  home !  How 
its  divine  protection  hovers  over  the  slow-breathing  multi- 
tude like  the  shadow  of  a  great  wing ! 

This  book  is  the  product  of  one  not  hoary  with  experi- 
ence, but  of  one  who  has  tasted  a  little  of  the  bitter  water, 
and  who  has  written  from  the  depths  of  conviction.  We 
hope  that  the  public  and  the  critics  will  receive  his  effort 
w ith  feelings  as  kindly  as  those  with  which  it  is  offered,  and 
he  will  feel  that  from  his  soul  a  burden  has  been  lifted. 

S. 


CONTENTS. 


PAUB. 

i            •    .    . 

.       .               lli 



.       .               X) 

i:  1. 

THE  NATURE  OF  HOME.     

.    .       15 

1  TKR    II. 

"F    Id  'ME,           

, 

l-TEB   ZL 

:   .        .        , 

.     .        35 

, 

42 

•  ll  \: 



,     .     .        49 

:   VI. 

REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS,    .    .    .    .    , 

,     .     .        73 

<  IIAI'TKK    VII. 

AMUSEMENTS  FOR  THE  HOME,    .... 

,    .     .        81 

i  AITEB   VIII. 

91 

CONTENTS.  vii 

PAGE. 
CHAPTER  IX. 

JOYS  OF  HOME, ,    .    .    .    .        97 

CHAPTER    X. 

EDUCATION  OF  OUR  GIRLS, 105 

CHAPTER    XI. 

EDUCATION  OF  OUR  BOYS, 119 

CHAPTER    XII. 

BOOKS  FOR  THE  HOME, 127 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

EVENINGS  AT  HOME, .      135 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

SELF  CULTURE, 145 

CHAPTER    XV. 

SUNDAYS  AT  HOME,       159 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

RESOLUTIONS  AND  INDIVIDUAL  RULES  OF  LIFE,    .      169 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

CORRESPONDENCE  AND  FORMS, 175 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

MANNERS  AT  HOME,       193 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

FAMILY  SECRETS,       .    .    .    .      218 

CHAPTER   XX. 

DUTIES  OF  HOME, 222 


CIIAI'TKR    X  x 
IKNTMBS  

CIIAITKI:     X  \  II. 

287 

\  1*1  KR    XXIII. 

II  "Mr. 

• 
.      .  

i     •       i.\v  »  .  261 

•  II  s 

HOME,  

•  IIAITKK    XXVII. 

\ 285 

AT   II MM K.     .     .          291 

MX. 

SUCCESS  OB  i                              i>o WED  AT  HOME,      297 
KS  ABOUT  GENIUS, 306 

;:    xxxi. 

COURAGE  TO  MEET  LIFE'S  DUTIES 317 

<   MATTER    XXXII. 


CONTENTS.  ix 

PAOK. 
CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

LEAVING  HOME,     ...  338 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

MEMORIES  OF  HOME, .      347 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

TRIALS  OF  HOME, 352 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

SORROW  AND  ITS  MEANING,       359 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  WIDOW'S  HOME, 371 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

HOMELESS  ORPHANS, 376 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

HOMES  OF  THE  POOR, 383 

CHAPTER    XL. 

HOMES  OF  THE  RICH, 390 

CHAPTER    XLI. 

THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME, 401 

CHAPTER    XLII. 

OUR  LAST  FAREWELL  OF  HOME, 412 

CHAPTER    XLHI. 

HEAVEN  Oxjn  HOME, 421 


PUBLISHERS'   NOTICE. 


im:  m:.\m:i: : 

Perhaps  a  word  from   the    publishers  of 
volume  would  be  aj-;  •   ri^ht  here. 

«•  the  date  of  the  f<>  tion 

.uith«>r  lias  graduated  from  college  with 
high  honors,  and  truly  can  we  say  that  r; 
does  am  tion  of  learning  bestow   its 

diploma  upon   one   whose  faculties   are    so 
broadly  developed,  or  who  has  been  more  earnest  in 
oration  for  a  life  work  in  •  ice  of  mankind.     Believ- 

ing that  the  ministry  of  the  following  pages  will  ennoble 
tho  heart,  purify  the  mind  and  elevate  that  sacred  spot 
around  which  cluster  our  joys  and  our  woes,  we  are 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

KING.  RICHAKP- 


THE    FOLLOWING 

LETTER    OF    INTRODUCTION 

WAS  ADDRESSED  TO 

REV.  O.  B.  CHENEY,  D.  D.,  PRES.  OF  BATES  COLLEGE,  ME. 


fc      /L^^^.       ^£e. 


*^~^~     ,    J* 


^£        *0r*+^*         *+~* 


AN'S  life's  a  book  of  history: 
The  leaves  thereof  are  days; 
The  letters,  mercies  closely  Joined 
The  title  is  God's  praise. 


THE   NATURE  OF  HOME. 


UR  home  is  the  one  spot  on  earth  where  is 
concentrated  the  largest  per  cent,  of  our 
earthly  interest.  There  are  few  human  be- 
ings without  a  home  or  the  memory  of  one. 
The  vast  multitude  that  surges  through  the 
streets  of  the  great  city  is  made  up  of  indi- 
vidual souls,  each  of  which  to-night  will  seek 
some  place  it  calls  home.  There  are  those 
who  roll  through  the  streets  with  golden 
livery  to  palaces  where  brilliant  lights  and 
gorgeous  tapestry  and  plushy  carpets  await 
their  coming. 

There  are  those  who  walk  the  frosty  pave- 
ment  with   cold   and   bleeding   feet,  whose 
homes  are  in  damp  and  dreary  cellars,  or  in 
the   rickety  garrets   of  worn   and  wretched 
hovels.     No  lights,  no  music,  no  feasts  await 
them,   nothing    but  a   crust   and   a   bed   of 
straw.     And  yet   these    places   in  all   their 
wretchedness  are  the  homes  of  human  beings. 
There  is  still  another  class  of  homes,  where  has  been 
answered  the  human  heart's  best  prayer,  "give  us  neither 


peace  and  joy  and 

and    fn.  with 

sunl':  heulthfi; 

me  be  a  palace,  a  cot  lav 
u  gu  me. 

M)iil  it  '1,  to  a  certa 

cs.     Of  tli 

•.\anl  IN  lnit  ; 
fill  if  tin-   outward  i-  rvcra  t:  :e8sionof  the  in 

inasmuch  as  n.  .ti>  al  w.  .'-nee. 

;    hovel  I  c  and    1  iwell, 

nor   the  palace  wlu-K  -,6  of  love  ran  he 

a  true  h- 

;.ie  is  the  resort 

vi\  of  Joy,  of  peace  and  plenty,  where 
Supporting  and  supported,  polished  friend* 
Ami  dear  relation*  mingle  into  bliss." 

Next  to  religion,  tin-   h«  Jiicnt  is  the 

thf  human  lira:  L       At  t: 

heart  a\v  :d  c.f  the  in 

is  dead  t  ^ouud   unti  D   harm.  rd  is 

k,  when  :«-s  and   taking  up  the  sound  prd 

it  as  if  it  could  not  let  it  die,  so  many  a  <i 
dead  to  ever}'  appeal  save  :  gie  s..und.  H  !  The 

lives  \vh.«  have  heen  snatched  as  brands  • 

fire  will 

iden   rei: 
"good    n  In 


THE  NATURE  OF  HOME.  17 

the  dark  and  loathsome  dens  of  iniquity  there  are  those 
whose  lips  have,  for  years,  acknowledged  their  Creator  only 
in  oaths ;  whose  eyes  have  shed  no  tears,  and  whose  ears 
have  heard  only  the  blasphemies  of  drunken  revelry. 
And  yet  could  an  unseen  hand  write  upon  those  walls  the 
words  "  Home  "  and  "  Mother's  Love,"  lips  would  quiver, 
eyes  would  swim,  and  from  the  depths  of  many  a  soul  in 
which  the  germs  of  truth  and  love  had  long  since  seemed 
dead,  would  burst  the  heart-rending  confession, — 

"  Once  I  was  pure  as  the  snow,  but  I  fell, 
Fell  like  a  snow-flake  from  heaven  to  hell, 
Fell  to  be  trampled  as  filth  of  the  street, 
Fell  to  be  scoffed  at,  be  spit  on  and  beat; 
Pleading,  cursing,  begging  to  die, 
Selling  my  soul  to  whoever  would  buy; 
Dealing  in  shame  for  a  morsel  of  bread, 
Hating  the  living  and  fearing  the  dead." 

The  powerful  influence  which  the  home  sentiment 
exerts  over  the  minds  of  men  was  shown  in  a  striking 
manner  a  few  years  ago  at  Castle  Garden,  New  York. 
Some  ten  thousand  people  had  gathered  there  to  listen  to 
that  sweet-voiced  singer,  Jenny  Lind.  She  began  with 
the  sublime  compositions  of  the  great  masters  of  song. 
Her  audience  applauded  her  with  a  respectful  degree  of 
appreciation.  But  at  length,  with  sweetness  ineffable, 
born  of  the  holy  parentage  or.  genius  and  passion,  she 
poured  forth  that  immortal  song,  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 
At  once  the  irrepressible  contagion  of  sympathy  spread 

through  that  vast  audience.     Peal  on  peal  of  thunderous 
2 


IUM  re»«  •   tin-  *oi)£  \va* 

ecstasy  of  those  who 

e  a  greater  gci. 

.ices  to  < 

. 

liand  on  the  heart  of  I 
grasp  he  chanced  to 

Iiiinuui  heart  su 
:itl. 

me  of  our  childhood!  bow  affection  clings 
And  hovers  'round  I  hoc  with  her  seraph  w  : 
Dearer  thy  hills,  though  clad  in  autumn  br 
Than  fairest  rammiu  which  the  cedars  crown." 

The  rou^h  experiences  of  tlie  roaring,  toiling,  stormy 

>  from  i  :.  but 

ire  of  our  early  D  the 

.  until  "  i.e  loosed  or  the 

l>e  broki 

•  •t  recal! 
1  triumj  ".  ;    but  . 

that 

.      I 
\vill  not  dim  tl..  pic- 


THE  NATURE  OF  HOME.  19 

ture.  Whatever  else  the  heart  may  forget,  it  cannot  for- 
get the  place  of  its  birth;  it  cannot  forget  the  little 
broken  cart,  the  sled  and  the  kite,  the  sister's  fond  caress, 
the  brother's  generous  aid,  the  father's  loving  counsel,  and 
the  mother's  anxious  prayer. 

It  cannot  forget  the  day  when  a  chastening  hand  drew 
still  closer  the  chords  of  love  and  bound  the  little  circle 
in  a  common  sorrow;  the  day  when  hushed  footsteps  were 
in  the  house,  and  the  silent  rooms  were  filled  with  the 
odor  of  flowers,  and  the  garden  gate  swung  outward  to  let 
a  little  casket  through. 

"  That  hallowed  word  is  ne'er  forgot, 

No  matter  where  we  roam; 
The  purest  feelings  of  the  heart 
Still  cluster  'round  our  home. 

"  Dear  resting  place  where  weary  thought 

May  dream  away  its  care, 
Love's  gentle  star  unveils  its  light 
And  shines  in  heauty  there." 

But  the  ministry  of  home  consists  not  alone  in  its  fond 
memories  and  hallowed  associations.  It  is  the  great  con- 
servator of  good,  the  "  seeding  place  of  virtue."  It  is 
the  origin  of  all  civilization.  The  laws  of  a  nation  are  but 
rescripts  of  its  domestic  codes.  The  words  uttered  and 
the  doctrines  taught  around  the  fireside  are  the  influences 
that  shape  the  destinies  of  empires. 

It  is  the  influences  of  home  that  live  in  the  life  of  king- 
doms, while  parental  counsel  repeats  itself  in  the  voices  of 
republics.  We  would  impress  upon  the  minds  of  our 


o(,  I  UOXE. 

ncea  of  the  ro»:  ling,  stormy 

!  iijiin  may  not  recall  all  the  experiences, 
".jles  and  trilling  manhood;  1 

>od  honi« 

he  h<  ; 'holographed  uj. 

:•  fade  away.     I' 

Whatever  else  the  lu 

place  of  i  .not  f<»rj 

the  sled  a  sister's  fond  caress, 

- 
anxious 

.innot  forget  the  day  when  a  chastr  Irew 

still  closer  tin-  1 1  lords  of  love  and  bound  f  le  in 

a  common  sorrow  ;  tl. 
the  house,  and  the  silent  rooms  were  filled  with  tl 

•rs,  and  the  garden  gate  swung  outward  to  let  a,  little 
casket  through. 

i  liat  hallowed  word  is  ne'er  forgot, 

No  nutter  where  we  roam ; 
The  purest  feelings  of  the  heart 
cluster  round  our  home." 

It  is  the  guardian  of  youth,  a  co:  eary 

toils  of  manhood,  and  a  r> 
who  is  soon  to  lay  off  the  ami 
mds  to  guidi 


ffiIE  NATURE  OF  JloME.  21 

When,  think  you,  were  fashioned  the  pillars  of  that 
colossal  character  ?  Did  they  spring  up  to  meet  the  emer- 
gencies of  fame  and  power?  No!  they  were  sculptured  in 
the  sacred  quarry  of  the  cradle  with  that  chisel  which 
only  a  mother's  hand  can  wield.  When  we  stand  in  the 
presence  of  art's  grandest  achievements  we  feel  like  bow- 
ing before  that  genius  which  can  take  from  the  hand  of 
nature  a  block  of  marble  and  hew  away  the  chips  that 
hide  a  waiting  angel.  But  the  mother  of  Garfield  took 
from  the  hand  of  God  the  unformed  elements  of  a  human 
character  and  shaped  them  into  something  it  were  blas- 
phemy to  compare  with  the  proudest  creation  that  ever 
leaped  from  the  brain  of  genius — a  God-like  man. 

"  O  wondrous  power!  liow  little  understood! 
Entrusted  to  a  mother's  mind  alone, — 
To  fashion  genius  from  the  soul  for  good." 

No  argument  is  necessary  to  convince  us  of  the  potency 
of  home  influence  in  shaping  character.  There  are  cer- 
tain truths  to  which  it  is  only  necessary  to  call  attention, 
and  minds  instinctively  assent  to  them,  and  to  this  class, 
we  believe,  belong  those  general  truths  concerning  home 
which  we  have  mentioned.  Indeed,  they  are  recognized 
and  taught  in  the  trite  maxims  of  every-day  life.  Napo- 
leon understood  well  the  nature  of  home  and  its  mission 
when  he  said,  "The  great  need  of  France  is  mothers." 
An  old  Scotch  proverb  says,  "An  ounce  of  mother  is 
worth  a  pound  of  clergy."  Mohammed  said,  "  Paradise  is 
ut  the  feet  of  mothers." 


u 

of  fr. 

• 

with 
all  of 

•ihlies  01 

fail  in  t: 
ilil  \\ill 
till  t: 

:is  shout    ot 

I 

.ml  fathers,  that  i 

• 
.    '. 

:>e  is  in  you  :  and  the  instruments  which 

h  which  to  fit   r  t  this 

•  •s  of  ho 
ts  of  their  1 
ame  of 

:  the 
than  tl  plots  of 

If  your  bov  :xl  at  L 


THE  NATURE  OF  HOME.  23 

not  discuss  with  dignity  the  little  questions  that  arise  in 
their  daily  intercourse  with  one  another,  be  sure  they  will 
not  honor  the  nation  when  they  take  their  places  in  senate 
halls  to  discuss  the  great  problems  that  confront  the  civil- 
ization of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Now,  if  home  may  be  so  powerful  an  influence  for  good, 
how  important  becomes  the  cultivation  of  the  home  senti- 
ment. To  be  destitute  of  this  sentiment  is  almost  as  great 
a  misfortune  as  to  be  destitute  of  the  religious  sentiment. 
Indeed,  we  believe  that  one  cannot  possess  a  true  and  ex- 
alted love  of  home  while  there  is  wanting  in  his  character 
that  which  when  awakened  may  yield  the  fruit  of  a  godly 
life.  What  a  mighty  responsibility  rests  upon  him  who 
essays  to  make  a  home,  for  the  founding  of  a  home  is  as 
sacred  a  work  as  the  founding  of  a  church.  Indeed,  every 
home  should  be  a  temple  dedicated  to  divine  worship, 
where  human  beings  through  life  should  worship  God 
through  the  service  of  mutual  love — the  highest  tribute 
man  can  pay  to  the  divine. 

If  the  home  sentiment  be  one  of  the  strongest  passions 
of  the  human  soul  it  was  made  such  for  a  wise  purpose. 
The  affections  of  the  heart  all  have  their  corresponding 
outward  objects.  We  possess  no  power  impelling  us  to 
love  or  desire  that  which  does  not  exist  as  a  genuine  insti- 
tution and  necessity  of  nature.  So  this  strong  home  senti- 
ment only  proves  to  us  that  the  institution  of  home  was 
divinely  born.  It  is  based  in  the  very  constitution  of 


.a    nature,  and   so  \  •    su» 

It 
In.-  of  In  :..nr.      I 

t.out  ol 
timbers  < 

Is  as  a  : 
:ere  are  tln<  who  are 

the 
possession  of  an  »'•/•"/  In  •me.     Tin-  b«  < 

.     The  world  called   II" 

kings  and  peas,. 
imj.1  :hre>hol  , 

which  lie  reared  in 

Ar.  i-e  of  tl.'  origin  of  tl. 

of  home  is  found  in   itsohvi.  tation  to  the  end   it 

S  and   in    the  striking   analogies  which  v  t  be- 

general  :  of  nnti; 

vth    in    nat:  ,     and     B 

MCO   by   a    ]>re-existing    guardian. 
;i   of  the  oak    is  nourished  and  1  by  the 

u  until  it   is  strong  enough  to  draw 
iirectly  !'  earth,  and   to  \\iih.stand  the 

-enrolling  sun.     So  it  must  be  with  the  germ 

vave  in  ! 
'1  if  we  wish  it   t..  become  a  grand  and  i 

formity, 
rishmenl  of  :.-.      We 


THE  NATURE  OF  HOME.  25 

should  see  that  there  is  the  proper  spiritual  soil  from 
which  the  little  human  germ  may  gather  wholesome  :r:;<l 
strengthening  food  when  it  puts  forth  its  tender  rootlets 
into  the  great  world  without.  The  relation  which  the 
acorn  sustains  to  the  germ  is  precisely  that  which  the 
home  sustains  to  the  child.  If  we  were  to  suppose  the 
germ  endowed  with  intelligence,  we  should  still  suppose  it 
ignorant  of  everything  but  the  environments  of  the  acorn. 
It  would,  of  course,  be  all  unconscious  that  there  is  a 
world  without  full  not  only  of  germs  like  itself,  but  of 
giant  oaks.  So  the  child  is  ignorant  of  the  great  outward 
world.  The  home  is  its  little  world  and  it  knows  no 
other. 

Precious  thought,  that  it  never  quite  outgrows  the  bliss- 
ful ignorance !  We  take  on  higher  and  broader  views  of 
life,  but  we  are  compelled  by  a  law  of  our  being  to  look 
forever  upon  our  home  as  in  some,  way  the  grand  center 
from  which  radiate  all  other  interests. 

When  the  mother  shades  the  windows  of  the  nursery, 
she  but  unconsciously  imitates  the  Creator  of  her  child, 
who  through  the  institution  of  home  has  shut  from  hi.s 
feeble  and  nascent  mind  the  flashing  colors  of  the  too  br.il- 
liant  world. 

But  not  alone  for  childhood  is  the  sacred  ministry  of 
home.  It  is  the  guardian  of  youth,  a  consolation  ar,;id 
the  weary  toils  of  manhood  ;.ii<l  ;v  resting  place  for  old  agv, 
where  he,  who  is  r-.o;-n  !-.>  lay  -.IT  the  armor,  may  find  lov- 


•  steps  to 

;ill  inf.t: 

>•  of  life  in  the  a;_rgi  re   we   t< 

|]  in  the  great  ,\c  shou!'! 

;:i  its  va 

cesaary  to  n 
late  tin-   l.uiiKiii  mind,  as  it    I 

,te  life.     And  this  God  has  done  in 

:C. 

"  Home  's  not  merely  four  square  walls, 

Though  w'1'1  pictures  bung  and  gilded: 
Home  to  where  affecUou  calls, 

>*•  the  heart Jialh  builded! 
•>!  go  watch  the  faithful  dove, 

rig  'nrath  the  heaven  above  as; 
Home  is  where  there  '«  one  to  lovel 
Home  is  where  there  '•  one  to  love  asl 

M  Home  '•  not  merely  roof  and  room, 
><U  vomething  to  endear  it; 

cart  can  bloom, 

iere  's  some  kind  lip  u>  cheer  it! 
What  b  home  with  none  to  meet* 

*  to  welcome,  none  to  greet  us  ? 
Home  to  sweet,— and  only  sweet,— 
Where  there  '•  one  we  love  to  meet  us! " 


TUB  POWER  OF  THE  HOME. 


INFLUENCES   OF   HOME. 


T  is  a  law  of  all  initiate  life  that  it  is  suscept- 
ible to  outward  and  formative  influences  in 
an  inverse  ratio  to  its  age.  An  ear  of  corn 
while  it  is  yet  green  may  have  an  entire  row 
of  its  kernels  removed,  and  when  it  becomes 
ripe  it  will  show  no  marks  of  this  piece  of 
vegetable  surgery.  So  the  young  child  may 
have  many  a  vice  removed  while  he  remains 
as  plastic  clay  in  the  hands  of  those  whose 
privilege  it  is  to  mold  the  character  for 
eternity,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will  show  no 
marks  of  the  cruel  knife  of  discipline  and  de- 
nial through  which  the  change  was  wrought. 
But  if  he  becomes  old  before  the  work  is  begun  the  scar 
will  always  remain,  even  if  the  experiment  succeeds.  A 
bad  temper  in  a  young  child  may  be  sweetened,  but  the 
acid  temper  of  an  old  man  reluctantly  unites  with  any 
sweetening  influences. 

We  find  here  a  striking  analogy  to  a  physical  law  of  our 
being.  It  is  a  well  known  fact  that  in  early  childhood  the 
osseous  tissues  of  the  body  are  soft  and  flexible.  The 


;><-   aim- 

t  without  1>:  \V.- 

. 
<  all   influences,  it   is 

twig  is  bent   tl 

0  less  true  of  the  mind  and  soul. 
:!ii::,.il  1  lOOSe 

Mg. 

Who  does  not  know  that  the  »n  of  ti 

holly    <1  t    on    the    manner    in    which  the 

pupj  j'rinciple  is  recogni/.ed  in   the  old 

hard  to  teach  an  old 

Wl  be  our  views  conccrnin  >ral  and 

spiritual   relations  of  the  human  to  the  hrii!  n.  it 

cann<  i   that   the  laws  whi< 

life  of  each  are  essentially  the  same.     The  difference  : 
quantity  rather  than  qua" 

What  a   grand   virtue   :  '     II •  ,\v  charming    in 

chfldhoodl    I'  '.ime  in  manhood  !    Then  let  us  : 

the  ease  with  which  patience  is  created  or 
••ill  in  the  young  animal. 

f  children  to  outward  influences  is 

f  imitation,  and   tl 
tlu-m  for  a  wise  purpose. 

Ori.  1    child!, 

would  influence  the  acts  of  a  child  we  si. 


INFLUENCES  OF  HOME.  29 

set  him  an  example,  we  should  act  as  we  wish  1dm  to  act. 
Patient  children  are  never  reared  by  impatient  parents. 

Most  of  the  crime  and  misery  of  the  world  are  due  to 
the  early  influences  of  home.  "We  may  not  be  aware  how 
small  an  influence  may  work  the  ruin  of  a  child  when  he 
has  inherited  slightly  vicious  tendencies.  By  nature  the 
disposition  of  a  child  is  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world, 
and  how  beautiful,  tender  and  sweet  might  become  the 
lives  of  all  if  parents  were  conscious  of  these  truths,  arid 
would  act  according  to  their  knowledge.  But  they  so 
often  contaminate  the  sweet  springs  of  childhood  with  the 
bitterness  of  their  own  lives,  that  we  do  not  wonder  that 
the  old  theologians  so  strongly  believed  in  total  depravity 
and  innate  sinfulness. 

Infancy  is  neither  vicious  nor  virtuous;  it  is  simply 
innocent,  and  is  susceptible  alike  to  good  and  bad  influ- 
ences. 

Its  safety  consists  alone  in  the  watchfulness  of  its 
guardians.  The  soldier  has  his  hours  of  duty,  but  the  par- 
ent in  whose  hands  is  entrusted  the  guardianship  of  an 
immortal  soul  is  never  off  duty.  When  the  baby  is  asleep 
all  the  household  move  softly  lest  they  awake  him ;  but 
when  he  is  awake  they  should  move  and  think  and  speak 
more  softly  lest  they  awaken  in  him  that  which  no  nursery 
song  can  lull  to  sleep  again. 

The  young  child  is  an  apt  student  of  human  nature. 
You  do  not  deceive  him  as  you  perhaps  think.  The 


i-hilil.      I:     .   ti,  '   the 

fhil.i  •  the 

D   the 

•  it. 

•  be 

' 

;  allow  to  In-  wir  ' 

ai  not    - 

iild,  an  awful 

•:iMl>ility   is  thrown   UJK>-  .: 

inmost  soul  ure  the  c> 
cliihl  is  trying  t" 

Til-- 
degree of  its  true  nieiuiin 
Phil.  >ophors  tell  us,  not   i:i 

'1    on  tl- 

'ions  that  never  cea-  r  hand  ( 


INFLUENCES  Oi-  HOME.  31 

motion  to  a  pendulum,  and  in  that  act  you  have  produced 
an  effect  which  shall  endure  through  eternity.  The  vibra- 
tion of  the  pendulum  as  a  mass  ceases,  but  only  because 
its  motion  has  been  transformed  from  mass  motion  to 
molecular  motion.  Had  it  been  suspended  in  a  vacuum 
and  been  made  to  swing  without  friction  at  the  point  of 
suspension,  it  would  have  vibrated  on  forever,  but  the  fric- 
tion which  is  inevitable,  and  the  resistance  of  the  air  grad- 
ually bring  it  to  rest,  and  we  say  the  motion  has  ceased, 
but  this  is  not  true.  The  motion  has  not  ceased,  it  has 
simply  become  invisible.  At  every  vibration  a  part  of  the 
motion  was  changed  at  the  point  of  suspension  and  in  the 
air  into  the  invisible  undulations  of  heat  and  electricity. 
A  moment  ago  the  pendulum  was  swinging,  but  now 
infinitely  small  atoms  are  swinging  in  its  stead,  and  the 
aggregate  motion  of  all  those  atoms  is  just  equal  to  the 
motion  of  the  pendulum  at  first.  These  waves  of  atomic 
motion  expand  and  radiate  from  the  points  of  origin,  ex- 
tending on  and  on  and  on,  past  planets  and  stars,  beating 
and  dashing  against  their  brazen  bosoms  as  the  waves  of 
the  ocean  beat  the  rocky  shore.  This  is  not  the  language 
of  fancy ;  it  is  the  veritable  philosophy,  the  demonstrated 
facts  of  science.  Your  will  gave  birth  to  motion  communi- 
cated along  the  nerve  of  your  arm  to  the  pendulum,  and 
that  motion  has  gone  past  your  recall,  on  its  eternal  errand 
among  the  stars.  What  a  solemn  thought  I  You  are  the 
parent  of  the  infinite  ! 


n 

..iii  \\t>  >. 

.1  livo  a 
.c   of  the  Iniiii.  preai 

al  trutli 
an  intliu'iu-f  in  its  v 

of  all  tin-  m\ri.id  d.  ;id  but  lives  t 
in    the  character    of  our  ud  thor. 

We  are  (lie  outgrowth  «>f  all  the  u'r.unl  : 

of  all  <  > :.'.  .    '  tho 

influence  of  a  human  tlun: 

treani  from  its  source 
Flows  seaward,  bow  lonely  soever  its  course, 

what  some  land  U  gladdened.    No  star  ever  rose 
Aixl  set  without  influence  somewhere.    Who  knows 
What  earth  needs  from  earth's  lowest  crea  life 

Can  be  pure  In  its  purpose  and  strong  in  r 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  there 

A  mother  speaks  a  fretful  word  to  a  child  at  a  cri 

when    j 

ready  wo:  nee,  and  in   :  ir.  ht-M 

.^  thinnest  veil  through  wh: 

.      !'.•;:    •  The 

penitenc«  .-old  upon  his  lip.  ti, 

its  fountain,  the  heart 

..ml   child,   the   i. 

:lh.  t!ie 

I 


INFLUENCES  OF  HOME.  33 

a  dark  assassin.  Who  can  trace  to  its  ultimate  effect  that 
fretful  word  through  all  its  ramifications  to  infinite  conse- 
quences ?  That  word  shall  reverberate  through  the  hails  of 
eternity  when  planets  are  dust  and  stars  are  ashes. 

Does  any  one  doubt  that  the  infinite  results,  in  the  form 
of  modified  thought,  speech  and  action,  yet  to  be  experi- 
enced from  the  assassination  of  our  late  beloved  president, 
are  all  traceable  to  the  early  influences  of  home  ? 

Who  can  tell  how  much  of  that  enormous  crime  must  be 
shouldered  by  the  parents  of  Guiteau?  But  if  the  ulti- 
mate consequence  of  the  assassin's  evil  deed  can  never  be 
estimated,  neither  can  the  good  deeds  of  his  victim.  Truly 
may  it  be  said  of  the  immortal  Garfield, — 

Such  life  as  his  can  ne'er  be  lost; 

It  blends  with  unborn  blood, 

And  through  the  ceaseless  flow  of  years 

Moves  with  the  mighty  flood. 

His  life  is  ours,  he  lives  in  us, 

We  feel  the  potent  thrill, 

And  through  the  coming  centuries 

The  world  shall  feel  it  still. 

The  web  of  human  life  is  wove 

Not  with  a  single  strand, 

But  every  grand  and  noble  man 

Holds  one  within  his  hand. 

And  in  that  pulseless  hand  to-day 

There  lies  a  strand  of  power, 

Whose  gentle  draft  shall  still  be  felt 

Till  time's  remotest  hour. 

Of  all  human  influences  those  of  home  are  the  most  far 
reaching  in  their  results.  The  mutual  influence  of  broth- 
ers and  sisters  may  be  almost  incalculable.  There  are 
many  men  who  owe  their  honor,  their  integrity  and  their 

3 


Than  i  pure 

and  i  It 

th;it   tli  ill. in  tlie 

s.      This  st-ntin 
sal  tliut   we  t  i-lji  believing  it 

purjKJse.     O  :it    of  d- 

!;e   of    II. 

-.  hat 
v    ujioii    tin-   ranvas   of  1  ,     fi 

:u-   fling- 

cliain  of  nioltfii  gold  around  the  dti  f  the 

night.     But  thrse  d< 

'ii  her  integrity.     So  \\v  may  lit-licve  that  this 
;on  which  n.  :d  lieroes 

..f  l)i  .is  divinely  < 

':i  closest  communion  ami  t'>  In;  a  both  within 

the  enchanted  circle  of  home  influence. 

>t  an  arrow  in  the  air. 
It  f  .1  knew  not  where. 


"  I  t  r«':itli«tl  a  s.  • 
It  fi-11  on  t-.irtli.  I  knew  u. 

r  wards  ID  an  oak 

I  f<niijil  thu  arrow  still  iinl/roke; 
And  the  soni;.  from  l>o^iuning  to  end, 
nd  again  In  the  heart  of  a  f 


Bl'DS  OF  PROMISE. 


BUDS   OF   PROMISE. 


OME  as  a  natural  institution  has  for  its  pri- 
mary object  the  nurturing  of  those  tender 
buds  of  promise  which  can  mature  in  no 
other  soil.  But  the  human  bud,  unlike  that 
f)  of  the  flower,  does  not  contain  its  future 
wholly  wrapt  up  within  itself,  but  depends 
more  upon  the  hand  that  nurtures  it.  The 
rose  bud,  no  matter  in  what  soil  it  grows,  no 
matter  what  care  it  receives,  must  blossom 
into  a  rose.  No  care  or  neglect,  at  least  in 
any  definite  period  of  time,  can  transform  it  into  a  noxious 
weed.  But  on  every  mother's  bosom  there  rests  a  bud  of 
promise,  and  whether  or  not  that  promise  shall  be  fulfilled 
depends  upon  her.  Whether  that  bud  shall  blossom  into 
a  pure  and  fragrant  rose  or  into  the  flower  of  the  deadly 
nightshade,  is  at  the  option  of  the  guardian.  We  would 
not,  however,  be  understood  as  teaching  the  doctrine  long 
since  abandoned  by  the  investigators  of  human  science, 
that  all  are  born  equal  as  regards  future  possibilities.  If 
men  had  known  the  subtle  laws  that  govern  the  develop- 
ment of  the  human  intellect,  they  perhaps  might  have 
traced  the  lightning's  course  through  the  infant  brain  of 


M 

Ne\v- 

• 
• 

I ' 
Shal-. 

6    <>n    a 

bosom,  ami   \  ..it  the  worl<! 

to  thunder  with  applause  at  the  mention 
nan  v  not? 

\V.-  will  not,  however,  speak  thus  positively  tory 

furnishes  much   e.  that  with  the  hirth  <  hud 

•  hint  of  it.-  pn  .  •-,  u  It-tt 

its  guardian  from  the  Creator. 

t  and  child  that 
to  the  spiritually  minded   mother   tl. 

of  her  chil' 

does  not  in  the  least  lig:  burden  of  responsibility 

falls  on  every  m<  birth  of  her  child.      S 

:iuinitioii,  indeed,  would  alu. 

it  always  i,'iven  ;    but  a  mother,  through   lack  of 
bilitv  lent  on  temperamental  conditions,  may 

in  her  arms  unawares,  that  which  the  world  has  a  riijht  to 
claim.      Out    fro:  ;   the   fc]  D   thousand  little 

children  that  swell  the  murmur  in  the  school-  :'  the 

cities,  or  with  bare  and  sun-burnt  feet  patter  n; 


OF  rnoMisu.  3? 

aisles  of  those  dear  old  school-houses  that  nestle  among 
:he  hills  and  valleys,  sacred  urns  that  hold  tlis  childish 
.-.egrets  and  hall  owed  memories  of  a  thousand  hearts,  out 
"rom  among  these  shall  the  angel  of  destiny  select  one  and 
place  upon  his  little  head  the  crown  of  Longfellow  and 
dedicate  him  to  the  service  of  his  kind,  and  make  him  the 
sweet  interpreter  of  star  and  flower. 

Mother !  shall  it  be  your  boy  ?  Do  you  hear  in  your 
isoul  the  gentle  whisper  ?  If  you  do,  wherever  you  may 
be,  may  the  benediction  of  humanity  rest  upon  you.  May 
your  precious  life  be  spared  to  watch  the  opening  of  that 
bud  of  promise.  As  friends  and  neighbors  assemble  to  see 
the  unfolding  of  the  night-blooming  cereus,  so  the  world 
shall  watch  the  unfolding  of  that  precious  bud. 

Let  every  mother  act  as  if  she  held  a  bud  of  promise. 
Let  thos<?  who  have  not  felt  the  premonition  attribute  it 
to  their  insensibility.  Better  a  thousand  times  bestow 
your  ten<{erest  care  upon  an  idiot,  better  believe  that  you 
hold  the  bud  of  genius  and  awake  to  bitter  disappoint- 
ment, than  to  learn  in  the  end  that  you  have  failed  to  do 
four  duty,  and  that  a  genius  grand  and  awful  like  a  fallen 
temple  lies  at  your  feet  in  the  pitiful  impotence  of  mani- 
fest but  unused  power. 

But  thrt  buds  of  promise  are  not  confined  to  the  great 
geniuses.  As  we  said  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter, 
every  infant  is  a  bud  of  promise.  It  is  not  the  Washing- 
tons,  the  1  jncolns,  and  the  Garfields,  that  shape  a  nation. 


IOCS,  lik- 

multitudi 

It  It 

. 
n  that  tl. 

i  the  South  £ 

. 

Tli  mother  i>  ti 

and  • 
fnr  the  hlossom.  and    let   h«-r   : 

Tliat    l»ud    \\i\\ 

lops  so  rapidly  as  a   human  l>u<l.      I 
main  a  hud  just  as  long  a 

perfume  while  its  pe;  il  re- 

ad, the 

;  rajiidly 

.     Thi-n  <h>  not   pull  ajtart  :  that 

hud  of  j  : 
hour  • 

"A:  all: 

•ijr  pain — 

Only  a  little  funeral  pall 
And  empty  arms  again." 


DUDS  OF  PROMISE.  -JC 

There  can  be  nothing  more  destructive  to  the  promises 
it  contains  than  to  attempt  to  open  a  rosebud  with  any 
other  instrument  than  a  sunbeam. 

The  world  is  full  of  the  withered  buds  of  human  promise 
that  have  been  too  early  torn  open  by  the  thoughtless 
hand  of  parental  pride. 

The  crying  sin  of  American  parents  is  their  unwilling- 
ness to  let  their  children  grow.  They  wish  to  transform 
them  all  at  once  from  prattling  infants  into  immortal 
geniuses.  They  have  more  faith  in  art  than  in  Nature,  in 
books  and  school  rooms  than  in  brooks  and  groves. 

Young  children  should  not  only  be  kept  from  school, 
but  they  should  be  taught  at  home  very  sparingly  and 
with  the  greatest  caution  in  those  things  which  are 
generally  considered  as  constituting  an  education.  Many 
suppose  that  the  injury  of  too  early  mental  training  re- 
sults solely  from  the  confinement  within  the  school  room, 
but  this  is  a  great  mistake.  The  injury  results  chiefly 
from  determining  the  expenditure  of  nervous  energy 
through  the  brain  instead  of  through  the  muscular  system. 
Your  young  child  must  have  no  thoughts  except  those 
which  originate  in  the  incoherent  activity  of  his  childish 
freedom. 

All  others  he  has  at  the  expense  of  bone  and  muscle, 
lung  and  stomach,  and  ultimately  at  the  expense  of  his 
whole  being.  The  solution  of  a  mathematical  problem  is 
as  much  a  physical  task  as  the  lifting  of  a  weight.  The 


>n  of  the  orator  nnd    the  devo: 
So  tli.it   those  v.  >  fill    tli- 

them   grand    and   gi> 

<>f  future  possi- 

i  turning  ;  sweetest 

perfume  > 
so  r>  rt. 

Tlie  social  forces  of  the  present  age  are  such  as  t 

.g  childi  iiarly  liable  to  j 

has  acquired  such  an  impetus  thn  :rv  inlli;. 

tliat   the  minds  of  infants  early  <  ,at   fata! 

of  thought,  uhirli  roiilts  in   the  thou- 

of  human  1>  glitfuln 

in  childl: 

,'h  to  1  >   to   the  natural 

infantile 

t  only  r,  ually 

,iii  irreparali' 
Tin  ;  influence  i. 

Tli-  the   ov.  :  of  infa: 

tlic  unnatural  and  abnormal  infant  mind: 

nnd  the  one  evil  enha:  that 

with  digestion  in  .ng  child  as  tho 


BVDS  OF  PROMISE.  4l 

Wendell  Phillips  in  speaking  of  the  evils  of  American 
precocity,  with  his  characteristic  and  humorous  hyperbole, 
tells  us  that  the  American  infant  impatiently  raising  him- 
self in  the  cradle  begins  at  once  to  study  the  structure  and 
uses  of  the  various  objects  about  him,  and  before  he  is  nine 
months  old  hns  procured  a  patent  for  an  improvement  on 
some  article  of  the  household  furniture. 

"  Who  can  tell  what  a  baby  thinks  ? 
\Vlio  can  follow  tho  gossamer  links 
By  which  the  manikin  feels  his  way 
Out  from  the  shores  of  the  great  unknown, 
Blind,  and  wailing,  and  alone, 
Into  the  light  of  day  ? 
Out  from  the  shore  of  the  unknown  sea, 
Tossing  in  pitiful  agony, — 
Of  the  unknown  sea  that  reels  and  rolls, 
Specked  with  the  barks  of  little  souls — 
Barks  that  were  launched  on  the  other  side, 
And  slipped  from  heaven  on  an  ebbing  tidoi 
What  does  he  think  ef  his  mother's  eyes  ? 
What  does  he  think  of  his  mother's  hair  ? 
What  of  the  cradle-roof  that  flies 
Forward  and  backward  through  the  air  ? 
What  does  he  think  of  his  mother's  breast. 
Bare  and  beautiful,  smooth  and  white, 
Seeking  it  ever  with  fresh  delight — 
Cup  of  his  life  and  couch  of  his  rest  ?" 


CHILDHOOD. 


.iinals  are  born  in  ;i  somewhat 
condition,  but  n  .<-lpless  a*  tin-  1m: 

Car*-.  Mahout  all  natu: 

'  de- 

!ll    tO 

quit' 

times    i  .1    of   their    children, 

minded  .uently 

.     Why  is  this  '.'      It  is  sinij'! 

cause  tin-  ,  or  mo;  :y,  the-  parental  love, 

is  not  the  outgrowth  of  a  sense  of  duty.     I  tiiu  t 

h  we  possess  in   common  with  the  brute.      1 
that   throughout    tin-  \vhoh-  animal 

tin-  ;  •    j.ossess  t!  in  j-roj'  .  the 

lenness  of  the  offspring. 

:s  a  universal   institution,  and  <  .ong 

as  with  the   human.       It  was, 

::i  the 

etBDete  of  offspring.  t  accoin- 


."'•"• 


SSgN 


CHILDHOOD.  43 

pany  its  parents  in  their  search  for  food,  iicu  could  the 
eaglet  soar  with  its  mother  into  the  heavens.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  an  instinct  that  should  prompt  the  lion  and 
the  eagle  to  select  and  prepare  a  proper  place  in  which  tc 
leave  their  young  while  they  may  attend  to  the  duties  im 
posed  by  their  mode  of  life.  So  reason  may  tell  us  that  it 
would  be  far  better  for  us  to  take  good  care  of  our  children, 
and  to  provide  for  them  a  suitable  home,  but  our  observa- 
tion of  those  in  whom  the  instinct  is  weak  convinces  us 
that  mere  reason  seldom  produces  this  result.  While  the 
intellect  tells  us  what  we  ought  to  do,  it  gives  no  impulse 
to  do  it ;  but  instinct  gives  the  impulse,  the  desire  to  do, 
and  when  the  instinct  is  in  a  healthy  condition  we  may  rely 
on  the  intellect  of  Him  who  implanted  the  instinct,  for  the 
fitness  of  the  acts  to  which  it  prompts  us.  Indeed,  it  is  a 
law  of  our  being  that  reason  cannot  perform  the  office  of 
an  instinct.  It  may  tell  us  that  we  ought  to  breathe  inces- 
santly, but  there  are  few  of  us  who  would  not  forget  the 
duty  were  it  not  for  the  instinctive  impulse. 

Without  the  home  instinct,  the  legitimate  desire  for 
novelty  which  all  possess  would  be  left  unbalanced,  and 
the  whole  human  race  would  wander  from  place  to  place, 
imd  the  world  would  become  one  mighty  caravan.  With- 
out the  instinct  of  parental  love,  the  child  would  be  held  in 
the  same  esteem  as  any  other  person  who  should  give  us 
the  same  amount  of  trouble.  And  since  it  is  a  law  of  our 
selfish  nature  that  unless  provision  is  made  by  special  in- 


.  the 
.  oarth   would  i: 

ircnU  are  not  <•: 
ill  the  trouble*  ami  anxieties  \\-\i. 

.'lit  in  i: 

Ml. 

The  ho  that  of  ; 

that  \v< 
t    that    :  ro   bestowed    \\ith    i 

.     la   true   t  :<   the 

sweetest  joys  of  life,  arc  rooted  in  th-  :  hut 

these  are  all  sc<  .nd  sul> 

16  of  childhood. 
II  be   only  ;  childhr 

K  only  that  ;:  found  those  5 nil'. 

are  necessary  to  fertilize  .racier  of  the  child 

came  it  to  blossom  and  bear  the  fruit  of  a  m>l>'  Why 

!1  great  men  had   homes  illustrious 

urity  of  their  influein  >-  ?     Ti.> 

to  be  found  in  tho  fart  that  the  soil  of  home  «  just 

thost- 

iiild'.s  1>.  il. 

he  figure,  the  face,  the  fcatur 

Why  ;  -o  small 

shrunkei  ;e,l  aml  , 

manner  sug- 


CHILDHOOD.  45 

gost  shriveled  precocity?  For  the  same  reason  that  an 
apple  which  has  been  early  detached  from  its  stem  will 
become  early  ripe,  but  never  developed.  Subject  it  to 
whatever  treatment  we  may,  it  will  shrivel  up  and  become 
insipid,  fit  symbol  of  the  boy  who  was  early  dropped  from 
the  home  into  the  street. 

The  home  is  the  garden  where  buds  become  fruit.  How 
important  then  that  the  garden  be  kept  free  from  weeds, 
while  it  is  enriched  with  affection  and  exposed  to  the  sun- 
light of  joy.  How  slight  an  influence  may  serve  to  blight 
that  opening  bud. 

The  child  is  as  impressible  as  he  is  helpless.  He  is  sim- 
ply the  raw  material  of  a  character  to  be  fashioned  by  the 
silent  and  imperceptible  influence  of  his  surroundings. 
And  it  is  this  which 

"Plants  the  great  hereafter  in  this  now." 

Silently  as  the  falling  of  snow-flakes  the  character  of 
that  child  is  forming.  We  cannot  see  the  bud  unfold,  and 
yet  we  know  that  to-morrow  it  will  be  a  rose.  So  our  per- 
ception cannot  follow  the  growth  of  the  child's  character, 
and  yet  we  know  that  day  by  day  its  forces  are  gathering 
and  that  soon  he  will  become  to  his  anxious  parents  a  joy 
or  a  sorrow. 

Children  are  much  more  easily  influenced  by  example 
than  by  precept.  A  child  may  be  told  repeatedly  that 
dishonesty  is  sinful,  yet  if  he  detect  dishonesty  in  father, 
mother,  sister  or  brother,  .he  will  imitate  the  example. 


may  a«  well  .   that   -infulm-- 

ll.'W  Shoillil    lllotlnTH    shtlli 

o  of  pasaioi; 

:    like 
the  >t. 

i  iie  rammer  breeze  that  fan*  the  rose, 

Or  eddies  down  MOM  flowery  j  • 
b  bat  UM  Infant  jnle  that  blows 

To-morrow  with  the  whirl  wind's  writ 

Mothers!  "ii   of 

haracter  wir 
however,  we  • 
are  so  fatal  t<> 

with  .ilf  will 

lew.     Bt  times  that   the  ehil-:.  ,  his 

are,  should  gaze  full  upon  th<-  hideoi. 
t  the  silken  cord  <•!*  .   thai 

him  to  a  n: 

;i  soul  can  grov 
:  is  both  unnecessary  jurious.     C« 

••so  perfect  that 
<  hild  cannot  .1  wrong  without  confessing  i 

'tould  IHJ  directed  to  the  maintenaix 

child  up  in  his  honor,  for  honor  grows  on! 


CHILDHOOD.  47 

cised.  With  this  confidence  between  yourself  and  your 
child  you  will  at  all  times  be  conscious  of  his  moral  con- 
dition. You  will  feel  in  your  very  heart  the  first  dawn- 
ings  of  evil  thought  in  him.  And  remember  that  it  is 
necessary  you  should  know  the  evil  thoughts  as  soon  as 
they  dawn,  for  the  conflagration  that  scourges  with  its 
fury  great  cities  is  less  dangerous  at  its  onset  than  the  first 
evil  thought  in  the  heart  of  youth. 

"  Crush  the  first  germ  ;  too  late  your  cares  begin 
When  long  delays  have  fortified  the  sin.  " 

But  by  nature  the  young  child  is  innocent,  and  positive 
influences  for  evil  must  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him  be- 
fore he  can  become  otherwise.  With  his  half  divine  na- 
ture he  recoils  from  the  very  sight  or  sound  of  that  which 
is  wrong.  Yet  he  is  so  imitative  and  so  susceptible  that 
his  danger  is  nevertheless  imminent,  and  the  fact  that  he 
may  more  readily  imitate  the  good  than  the  evil  should 
not  relax  parental  vigilance. 

SToung  children  and  even  infants  comprehend  far  more 
than  people  generally  believe.  They  cannot  express  their 
mental  operations  by  the  use  of  language.  Their  thoughts 
are  expressed  only  by  their  actions,  and  how  vague  an 
idea  of  the  thoughts  of  the  profoundest  thinkers  should 
we  have  if  our  only  clue  to  them  were  the  mere  outward 
acts  of  their  author.  Were  actions  the  only  interpreters 
of  human  thought,  the  world  would  appear  to  us  like  a 
vast  insane  asylum. 


H 

•he  only   f«"«l  «'ii  "  l>« 

:o\v  U  sometiin 

- 
. 

• 

.  and  lif 
i  ocomrr 

lias  given  the  follow  itii'ul  j< 

Always  send  your  little  chi 
tever  cares  may  trouble  ; 
a  warm  good  -s  as  it  goe»  '.    ', .      1 

i  the  ^toriny  years  whit!, 
one  will  be  li 
:iertb,  and  welling  up  in  the  heart  will  rise  the  the 

with 

will  IH-.  his  thrill  of  useful  memo 

lies.     Kiss  your  little  child  ': 

:  what  would  the  world  be  to  as 
10  children  were  BO  more  ? 

:;•.:•  •      .          - 

r«e  than  the  dark  before. 

'.at  the  learec  are  to  the  forest, 

Ere  their  sweet .  ;  uioes 

Hare  been  hardened  iuto  wood,— 

..?  world  ar 

Of  a  brigfator  and  *n  ,     ..tie 

Than  reaches  the  trunks  below." 


HOME   TRAINING. 


1  HE  Iraining  of  the  child  necessarily  begins 
with  the  body,  for  the  young  child  must  be 
regarded  chieily  as  a  young  animal.  The 
animal  is  the  first  to  be  developed,  and  in 
every  well  born  and  healthy  child  the  mani- 
festations of  animality  will  precede  those  of 
intellectuality.  One  has  said,  "  If  you  would 
make  your  child  a  good  man,  first  make  him 
a  great  animal."  The  child's  prospects  of  future  great- 
ness are  measured  in  part  by  his  stomach  and  lungs. 

The  most  important  period  of  a  child's  training,  then, 
is  that  period  during  which  he  is  an  animal.  Nature's 
method  seems  to  be  to  form  first  a  powerful  plrysical  sys- 
tem, and  then  on  this  as  a  foundation  to  rear  the  intellec- 
tual and  the  moral.  If  the  physical  is  diseased  the  mental 
cannot  be  healthy.  The  most  important  element  in  a 
great  man  is  a  great  body,  great  in  health,  in  vital  stam- 
ina, and  in  its  capacity  to  become  the  foundation  for  the 
mind. 

In  view  of  these  facts  it  becomes  of  paramount  impor 
tance  that  the  mother  have  a  knowledge  of  physiology, 

4 


N 

".!!    hllS  III 

of  mother  till  she  pocaeweft  MI.  !  - 

place  ad 

Not  i 

a  |  1 

hoiild    1 

f  him.     It  i 

Decenary  .  -uld  know  just  him 

when  he  is  si 
not  to  do  f»r  Iain.      1  him 

»rtunity  to  <li-j>l;iv  his  .4;ill  in  t 
mother  rrmi-mlxT  this   : 

of  a  sick  child  i  sin. 

-3  its  raothi •;  A 

healthy  chil<l 
ness  with  any  but  n  healthy  child,  for  \\holesome  food   in 

I'm-. 

never  diseased  a  lung.     A  h 
by  1 1 .  : 

o  food. 

No  child,  u  pered  1 

• 

to  withhold  from  him.     Ni>r  will  his  :\iire 

' 

place  of  instiiu  :  ting 

and  drinking.     Those  delicate  conditions  of  the  system  in 


HOME  TRAILING.  51 

which  it  accepts  or  rejects  nourishment  are  entirely  be- 
yond the  ken  of  reason.  Through  the  whole  animal  king- 
dom, including  man,  there  is  an  instinct  which  tells  its 
possessor  just  what  kind  of  food  and  how  much  its  system 
requires.  No  tests  of  science  could  determine  this.  Tyn- 
dall  may  exhaust  all  his  resources  in  trying  to  determine 
whether  or  not  a  given  robin  has  eaten  enough  to  meet 
the  requirements  of  its  physical  nature.  At  his  best  he 
can  only  estimate  it,  but  the  robin  knows  exactly. 

We  have  known  a  mother  to  urge  her  little  baby  to  sip 
from  her  own  cup  of  tea,  and  have  seen  her  appear  quite 
grieved  because  the  little  creature  with  pure  mind  and 
pure  body  instinctively  rejected  the  proffered  beverage  of 
sinful  men.  And  after  being  defeated  in  her  attempt  to 
poison  and  vitiate  his  taste,  she  would  exclaim,  "I  fear 
my  child  is  going  to  be  eccentric."  Some  mothers  are  al- 
most terrified  at  seeing  their  child  eat  a  piece  of  bread 
without  butter,  although  writers  on  hygiene,  whose  books 
are  within  the  reach  of  all  mothers,  are  agreed  that  butter 
is  one  of  the  abominations  of  civilization.  It  is  not  our 
intention  to  write  on  the  subject  of  health  or  diet,  but  so 
long  as  butter,  spices  and  other  unnecessarics  are  admitted 
to  be  evils,  it  seems  unpardonably  foolish,  not  to  say 
wicked,  to  urge  the  young  child  to  use  them,  especially 
since  lie  does  not  desire  them,  and  shows  by  Ins  actions 
that  he 'would  much  prefer  not  to  have  his  food  polluted 
with  such  stuff.  Let  the  mother  refrain  from  pampering 


:!g  and 
r   franti 

i-and    \\ho  arc   annually    march:  :i    to 

dnmknrds'   graves   \v 

at  awful  in;;.  Ktthcre. 

It    is  aduii; 
un\ .  Id  \\  itli 

i  the  ha1  '     "1  \\  ill  ! 

until    his   aj  ; 

.Hid  oth'  All    tl:> 

parental  aut1  1  in 

'  iMV    i; 
i       1 1       '  '     •        : 

account    f«T  the  almost   nni- 
I 

;    ami    \vliat 
tl   training  to  \\hicl; 
pring. 

I 
.     So  lon^'  as  children  arc  growii 

:  h  whirl.  arc   uni- 

'd  will  ho  full  of  dri: 

liich  de« 
prav. 


HOME  TRAINING.  53 

the  thousand  products  of  human  depravity  and  a  luxurious 
civilization  conspire  to  destroy  that  pure  instinct  which 
God  designed  to  be  a  peri'ect  guide  as  regards  the  quantity 
and  quality  of  our  food.  We  do  not  understand  how 
Christian  mothers  can  consistently  express  their  faith  in 
God  while  their  acts  show  that  they  distrust  the  wisdom 
which  gave  the  child  this  instinct. 

The  little  child  is  fed  on  flesh,  pickles  and  highly  sea- 
soned food  till  he  becomes  sick ;  then  of  course  he  cries. 
That  breaks  the  mother's  heart  and  she  gives  him  a  cooky 
to  stop  his  crying  before  he  goes  to  bed.  She  cannot  bear 
the  idea  of  her  child  going  to  bed  hungry.  The  cooky 
may  give  him  the  colic,  but  what  of  it  so  long  as  he  is  not 
hungry  !  She  cannot  tell  whether  he  has  the  colic  or  the 
headache,  but  if  he  cries  he  must  have  some  medicine.  It 
is  of  but  little  consequence  what  it  is  so  long  as  it  is 
medicine.  We  have  actually  heard  mothers  when  ques- 
tioned as  to  why  they  gave  their  babies  a  certain  kind  of 
medicine,  answer  that  they  "wished  to  give  them  something 
and  didn't  know  what  else  to  give  them."  We  .presume 
it  never  occurred  to  them  to  give  the  baby  the  benefit  of 
the  doubt. 

The  disposition  depends  upon  the  condition  of  the 
stomach.  If  that  be  sour,  the  disposition  will  be  sour 
also.  Many  a  good  child  has  had  his  disposition  spoiled 
with  cake  and  candy.  A  tendency  to  all  forms  of  deprav- 
ity may  result  from  a  diseased  condition  of  the  digestion. 


with  tlio  *'.  Al- 

- 
.inimt  he  afi. 

.tug  of  a 

: 
' 
.A.     Thus  ( 

4.ii(l  the  \\ithholdii 
.r  child:  ! 

roei  the 

. 

..f  eatii. 

iit-ir  childif-u  ;ire 
I 

\\  liii-li  a  jiiece  ol 

high'  1  <MH  <•": 

' 

who  jjives  her  child    candy, 

;  leasurc  of  the  child.  ^.  i;  limit 

regui  ;Tect  on  his  health,  \vh.it»-vcr  may  he  the 

.    > -hildien  get 
in  something  that  tastes  good 


HOME  TRAINING.  55 

to  eat.  Now  this  is  a  two-fold  evil.  It  is  both  a  physical 
and  moral  evil.  It  is  a  physical  evil  because  it  tends 
directly  to  produce  dyspepsia.  The  human  stomach  can- 
not perform  its  functions  properly  while  the  mind  is  angry. 
The  adage,  "  Laugh  and  grow  fat,"  is  founded  in  true 
philosophy.  In  order  for  digestion  to  be  performed  in  the 
most  perfect  manner  there  must  be  at  the  time  of  eating  a 
sense  of  peace  and  joy  pervading  the  mind,  making  the 
very  consciousness  of  existence  delightful.  All  have  ob- 
served that  the  dyspeptic  men  are  those  who  are  fretful 
and  cross  at  the  table.  The  tea  is  too  cold ;  the  coffee  is 
too  weak ;  the  steak  is  cooked  too  much  or  not  enough ;  the 
potatoes  should  have  been  baked  instead  of  boiled ;  there 
is  too  much  saleratus  in  the  biscuit;  or  there  is  some  trouble 
with  something — enough  tc  c::ct  a  shadow  over  the  whole 
meal  and  cause  the  whole  family  to  sit  in  gloomy  silence. 

This  is  not  so  much  because  dyspepsia  tends  to  make 
people  cross  at  their  meals,  but  because  being  cross  at 
meals  makes  them  dyspeptics.  Many  men  have  become 
incurably  diseased  by  eating  when  they  were  angry,  and 
the  mother  who  gives  her  child  a  cooky  to  stop  his  crying 
is  laying  for  him  the  foundation  of  a  life  of  suffering. 

Again,  such  a  practice  is  morally  wrong  because  it 
rewards  a  child  for  being  angry.  In  this  way  he  learns, 
whenever  he  wishes  anything,  to  scream  and  cry  until  his 
wish  is  gratified.  He  soon  acquires  such  a  habit  that  he 
does  this  even  though  no  one  be  near  to  grant  the  wish. 


U  his   first  lesson    in  unseen 

s  wen 

v 
• 

ant  of  soil  in  which  t 
All  children  ar> 

it,  but  tl.' 
grcn:  -'th. 

\   shall    la, 

How  shall  I  kn-j.  my  c-liil 
he  screams  aiul  will  n  •••iih  anythi: 

::it,  what  shall  I  d<>?      Ti. 

\illfully  injures    li«  r  i-liild    by    l;uo\\ ; 

I  ' ' 

course,  through  ignor.i  .'.ice. 

-v  and   natural   thin 
ly  let   the  child  ;  1  .11.     Chi! 

but    tlii;- 

r  child  will  !:•  •»•{>  his 

own  you    will    let    him.     Whr-n    ho 

screams  :  >t  lawful  for  him  to  have,  the 

treatmeir  'injde,   let  him    scrruin.     The  human 

mind   acts  from  witlmut    them.     The 

child  scream-  : 

ng  of  revenge  b<  Id. 


HOME  TRAINING.  57 

Now  the  only  way  to  prevent  a  mental  act  is  to  take 

,way  the  motives  which  prompt  to  the  act.     Hence  the 

ray  to  break  a  child  of  the  vice  of  screaming  is  to  remove 

jhese  two  motives.     The  first  you  can  remove  by  showing 

him  that  your  word  is  law.     When  you  have  commanded 

him  to  do  or  refrain  from  doing  a  certain  thing,  make  him 

understand  that  you  will  not  revoke  your  order  and  that 

further  pleading  will  be  in  vain. 

The  second  motive,  that  of  revenge,  may  be  removed  by 
proving  to  him  that  it  "  doesn't  work."  Show  by  your 
indifference  that  his  loud  crying  does  not  give  you  the 
least  inconvenience.  You  can  accompany  the  music  with 
the  humming  of  a  careless  tune.  He  will  see  by  this  that 
his  scheme  of  vengeance  is  defeated,  and  there  will  be 
nothing  left  for  him  to  do  but  to  stop  crying  and  amuse 
himself  as  best  he  can.  If  it  is  time  to  put  your  little 
child  to  bed,  do  not  coax  him  to  go  and  then  be  conquered 
by  coaxing  in  return.  Do  not  be  conquered  at  all.  In 
the  first  place,  you  should  not  tell  him  to  go  to  bed  till 
you  know  that  it  is  time  for  him  to  go,  and  not  till  you  are 
determined  he  shall  go.  It  is  not  necessarj'  that  you  be 
arbitrary.  There  is  no  objection  to  arguing  with  him,  if 
your  command  at  the  time  is  not  fully  understood  by  him. 
Try  to  convince  him  that  he  ought  to  do  as  you  tell  him. 
In  every  instance  the  import  of  the  word  ouyld  should  be 
kept  before  his  mind.  But  if  he  still  resists,  use  the  argu- 
ment of  force,  paying  no  attention  to  his  cries  and  screams. 


II 

:    the 
;         tic  u    .1  y<   ing 

much. 

the  unwise  and   inji:' 
when  we  sav 

meat 

be  should  b« 

left 

'     till'     C.I 

watches  :  <•>>  with 

i  the 

necessities  of  the  cas. 
valuable  lesson  from  the  cat.     S 

:•  tin-in  ; 

::ieir   jihysical   v. 
'    . 

srnva^-  :rge  the  case  in  the  least     I 

•ea  not  v,  .  ••  I  'm  alV.iid  my 

e  rat  it  fcr  : 

will 

x 
•t   the  k.  il'-T.  hut 


HOME  TRAINING.  59 

Hie  next  mouse  is  usually  eaten  with  a  relish.  Thus  the 
cat  is  wiser  than  the  human  mother,  for  she  is  wise  enough 
to  entrust  to  nature  those  things  which  she  herself  is  not 
wise  enough  to  do.  The  world  has  yet  to  learn  that  the 
little  children  are  its  physical  and  spiritual  teachers. 
When  Christ  would  name  the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven  he  said,  "  Who  so  humbleth  himself  as  this  little 
child,  the  same  is  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven," 
thus  making  it  a  kingdom  of  little  children.  There  was 
philosophy  in  that  beautiful  reply  of  Christ.  All  sin  con- 
sists simply  in  the  acts  that  are  prompted  by  instincts 
which  have  been  depraved.  Children's  instincts  are  least 
depraved,  for  they  are  nearest  to  the  source  of  all  purity, 
llence  the  child's  heart  must  always  be  the  truest  symbol 
of  Heaven. 

We  do  not  belong  to  that  school  whose  motto  is  "  spare 
the  rod  and  spoil  the  child."  We  believe  that  untold  evil 
has  resulted  to  the  wrorld  from  that  false  philosophy,  and 
we  are  glad  to  know  that  the  world  is  rapidly  discarding  it. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  morality,  or  rather  immorality,  of  the 
doctrine,  it  is  entirely  unnecessary.  How  foolish  to  break 
the  sweet  spell  of  confidence  by  beating  and  striking, 
when  the  little  heart  can  be  melted  in  penitential  grief  by 
a  word  !  Why  use  sticks  and  clubs  when  the  child  does 
not  fear  them  half  so  much  as  he  does  his  mother's  grief ! 
Hyenas  snarl  and  growl  and  strike,  and  some  mothers  snarl 
and  scold  and  strike.  Isn't  the  analogy  almost  humiliating? 


• 

•     :  .        It 

«•  an  in- 

• 

1 1  COmCS 

:.-.•••.     A  !  .  lui- 

•j.  ami    ! 
of  resentmen 

He 
cannot  easily  be  ;  '.nowli-dp"  in  h 

• 

b    to\va:  the 

.     Ti.>-  :  ^er,  hat: 

are   among   tho.se    \vhii-h  ve  in  common  with   tlu- 

->,  and  \\hil.  r  tlie  dominion  of  tl. 

much   ;.  A'.!    • 

to  the  whole  miiul. 
the  «  .irly  as  bad.     S> 

ught 

.    '       : 
:    thus  d 

i  i -very 
.c  of 

the  i:  f  an  intense  true 

of  the  chilxl  under  tls  It 


HOME  TRAINING.  61 

is  the  nature  of  fear,  whether  great  or  small,  to  repress  all 
that  is  God-like  and  arouse  all  that  is  demoniac.  You 
cannot  inflict  corporal  punishment  on  a  child  without  fill- 
ing his  little  heart  with  fear.  It  is  a  well  known  fact  that 
under  a  cruel  and  tyrannical  teacher  the  pupils  rapidly  be- 
come vicious  and  untrustworthy.  This  is  simply  because 
of  the  moral  repression  resulting  from  constant  fear.  Then 
do  not  frighten  the  children.  Every  argument  that  can 
be  deduced  from  the  wide  range  of  human  nature  forbids 
us  to  inflict  corporal  punishment  on  children. 

"  But,"  says  the  disciple  of  the  rod,  "  the  child  can  be 
made  to  acknowledge  the  justice  of  the  punishment,  and 
ought  not  to  be  punished  until  he  does  acknowledge  it. 
By  the  proper  argument  he  may  be  made  to  feel  that  he 
deserves  to  be  punished."  Very  well ;  then  he  does  n't 
need  to  be  punished.  The  object  of  punishment  of  course 
is  to  induce  penitence,  and  if  the  child  becomes  penitent 
before  the  punishment,  he  certainly  does  n't  need  to  be 
punished.  Who  would  punish  a  child  after 'lie  had  ac- 
knowledged that  he  ought  to  be  ?  Think  of  the  mother 
who  could  whip  her  child  after  he  had  laid  his  head  sob- 
bing on  her  bosom  and  said,  "  Mamma,  I  ought  to  be 
whipped  !  "  And  yet,  according  to  the  admission  of  even 
the  Solomon  school,  he  should  be  willing  to  say  this  be- 
fore he  ought  to  be  whipped.  He  must  be  made  penitent 
before  the  punishment  can  have  any  but  an  evil  effect. 

The  whole  truth  is  expressed  in  these  two  facts.     First, 


doesn't  ; 

.iici-s  und.T  whi 

it. 

.  and 

A  ••hil.l  in 
a  niinl«'l  <  t    with   <  h   lie 

.:i  uuutl- 
Wi 
ward  •  .ihout  tli- 

•   -  . 
obeys  the  w!  Hut 

•  hil'l !     The  tn; 

cares  .  t  ward  act  than  fur  t' 

DOt  80   Iimrli  niak.-  t!i- 

:  '   •        ik«    hi          :     \    the  -     D  OL  Qdfl  of   hi-  «'Wii 

conscience  and  the  spur  of  duty.     If  the  child 

-hmild  d 

; arcnt    :  y  he  a 

and    in- 

:h«»ut  tlio  other.  .ild   may 

_rs  <»f  h 
have  any  definite  sense  of  rebellic  he  obe\ 


HOME  TRAINING  63 

because  he  fears  to  disobey,  while  he  cannot  feel  that  the 
command  is  just,  he  experiences,  only  in  a  less  degree,  all 
those  evil  results  that  come  from  harboring  the  sentiments 
of  hatred  and  revenge.  This  obedience  is  outward  and 
not  inward. 

But  how  shall  the  stubborn  boy  be  trained  who  seems 
incapable  of  responding  to  any  other  appeal  than  that  of 
the  rod  ?  Let  us  suppose  a  case,  the  most  difficult  that 
we  can  conceive,  and  see  if  there  are  any  points  where  our 
doctrine  would  fail  in  practice.  Suppose  a  mother  re- 
quests her  boy  to  go  to  a  neighbor's  house  on  an  errand. 
The  boy  wishes  to  play  ball  and  stubbornly  refuses  to  go. 
What  shall  that  mother  do  ?  "  Give  him  a  good  sound 
thrashing,"  the  Puritan  mother  would  say.  But  even  if  she 
can  do  it  now,  she  will  certainly  lack  the  physical  power 
in  a  short  time,  and  then  what  shall  she  do  ?  "  Turn  him 
over  to  his  father,"  some  one  may  say.  A  year  or  two 
more  will  place  him  beyond  the  authority  of  his  father, 
then  what  is  to  be  done?  Here  the  resources  of  the 
"rod"  school  become  exhausted.  He  has  defied  the  au- 
thority of  force,  and  has  triumphed.  The  rod  system,  like 
some  systems  of  medicine,  works  well  in  those  cases  which 
need  no  doctoring.  As  a  rule  the  rod  arouses  the  very 
passion  which  led  to  the  commission  of  the  offense,  the 
very  one  we  wish  to  allay.  The  secret  of  governing  a 
child  is  to  soothe  those  faculties  whose  unrestrained  ac- 
tion gave  rise  to  the  offense,  and  at  the  same  time  to  call 


,  i  "I  I 

.    tuMQ    N  hieh    v. 

.     One  * 

tie*  i  the  M-nse  of  ohl 

su;.t"'-<  d   to  posses*  '  .     1 

;ued  ;    t! 
and  ' 
JCCt  of    "home   training."      V,  not    ^ivi: 

. 
I. ut  t.   training    and    dr\ 

:>f  entrusted  with   tln-ir  o\vn  freedom, 
those  who  arc  free  .%- 

;k    witli 

J'OM-d.         He     of    < 

of  anger,  tlie  very  passion  \\li\i-\i  tlic 
.-r  won!  :  ko  attempt  to 

II  <1   this   j>a>sio!i   1 

1         her  ajijifal    to  ].'. 
:vs5cd   for  tl 

i  lit  snhject  f«»r  thr  p-ui- 

in    tliat   ea  ihin    the 

'•>n  of  a1  :n  of  home  training. 

:-'-ssly  for  him.      1'  il  mar  l>e  ad- 

the  thii;  If  \\liich  shr  : 

:    may  l>o  well  t- 
his  sister  and  send  her  on  .:id,  with  the  understand- 


HOME  TRAINING.  65 

ing  that  it  is  not  just  for  her  to  be  compelled  to  do  it. 
When  he  remembers  that  his  little  sister  has  performed  a 
duty  that  was  not  hers  but  his,  he  will  feel  a  little  uncom- 
fortable in  the  region  of  conscience.  He  should  be  re- 
minded, perhaps,  during  the  evening,  that  he  is  under 
moral  obligation  to  another  who  has  performed  a  duty 
that  lie  refused  to  perform.  .  It  should  be  talked  of  for  a 
long  time,  and  his  conscience  should  not  be  allowed  to 
rest  till  he  has  paid  the  moral  debt.  No  precise  rule 
can  be  given  as  to  the  way  in  which  his  conscience  should 
be  appealed  to  in  every  instance.  Circumstances  may 
vary  so  that  any  attempt  at  this  would  be  impracticable. 
The  mother  should  be  so  well  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  the  child  as  to  be  able  to  appeal  to  any  sentiment  at 
will,  under  any  and  every  varying  circumstance. 

Some  may  object  to  this  because  it  defers  obedience  too 
long.  But  a  disobedient,  ungrateful  and  stubborn  boy 
should  be  regarded  by  parents  as  a  misfortune,  and  they 
should  be  happy  if  they  succeed  in  securing  obedience  at 
all,  even  if  it  requires  days  to  secure  obedience  to  a  single 
command.  But  if  this  method  is  practiced  with  the  child 
from  his  infancy,  he  will  not  become  a  disobedient  and 
stubborn  boy.  We  have  supposed  an  extreme  case  in 
order  to  anticipate  and  fortify  ourselves  against  the  argu- 
ment arising  from  such  cases. 

But  we  are  well  aware  that  many  a  good  old  mother 
who  has  wielded  the  rod  for  thirty  years,  will,  in  her  just 

5 


M 


. 

to  call   trash.     N 

pract  \vledge  of  these  grand  won,-  :i.      I 

is  pardonable.     }  >  '  are 

iken  in  some  of 

• 

v  that  :  is  a 

tbeorv.  but  it  eals  so 

mon  sense  and  intuition  of  mankind  as  t  dent 

of  the  argument  of  ai  •  <-rience. 

i ild  not  con: 

to  spoil  a   i!  will  th- 

!op  a  noble  ( 

•  •rs  will  son. 

ing.  iwerful   lungs   who  tin 

•le  lives  !  1  h.irdl\ 

\shd    I  :lieir 

.ichs,and  intemperate  nu-n  have  <lii-d  of  old  age.     Hut 
these  are  the  exceptions  and  n«t  the  rule.     For  one 

•  •s  to  live  a  long  lift-  it  wmild  not  be  safe  to  1 
perate  siiujtly  because  a  few  have  li\ 

of  in  ;t  safe  t< 

ng  because  sonn 

have  ren:  .    g 

tran-  ,  •hildrei;  jinds 

and  good  morals,  and  they  i.ave  developed 


HOME  TRAINING.  67 

noble  men  and  women  under  almost  any  system  of  train- 
ing. Besides,  the  occasions  for  punishing  such  children 
accur  at  intervals  so  rare  that  little  injury  can  result. 

In  the  training  of  the  child,  physical  culture  should  pre- 
cede all  other  kinds ;  next  should  follow  the  training  of 
the  affections.  He  should  be  taught  to  love  only  the  good 
and  to  hate  all  that  is  bad.  After  this  the  intellect  should 
be  trained.  Not  however  by  sending  him  to  school  to  sit 
all  day  on  a  hard  seat  where  his  feet  cannot  touch  the  floor, 
and  where  he  learns  to  say  "A."  Little  children  are  usu- 
ally sent  to  school  when  they  should  be  romping  through 
the  woods  and  pastures.  Of  course  we  do  not  condemn 
the  common  school  system,  yet  there  are  many  features  of 
it  which  tend  greatly  to  neutralize  the  good.  It  were  in- 
finitely better  for  the  race  to  live  in  barbaric  ignorance 
with  sound  and  healthy  bodies,  than  in  the  grandest  civil- 
ization with  bodily  weakness  and  physical  impotencj7 ;  for 
a  barbaric  race  may  become  civilized,  but  a  race  of  physi- 
cal weaklings  is  doomed  to  extinction.  And  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  the  common  schools,  especially  in  the  city,  are 
rapidly  sapping  the  physical  stamina  of  the  civilized  world, 
and  this  is  especially  true  in  hot-headed  America. 

Children  should  be  educated  at  home  by  the  parents  ; 
at  least  till  they  are  well  developed  physically.  It  is  safe 
to  send  a  boy  to  school  when  he  has  become  so  strong 
physically  that  no  teacher  can  suppress  his  buoyancy  and 
make  a  man  of  him. 


M 


unesson  the  par  ug  boys 

be  regarded  by  parents  a> 
hemorrhage  of  the  Inn.:-      I  >ese  are 

toms  of  the  wuue  disease. 
.-re  are  many  n 

.        I::     : 

•  •acher  of  the  child.     The  eagle  does  :  her 

s  to  school  to  le. 

governess,  but  chooses  t<>  i  the  duty  herself, 

spiritual  1-r  and  chil«! 

• 
no  other  teat 

in  tlie  child's  there  are  none  to  which  the 
mother  does  not  1.  key. 

•   •  individnalit 

»ut  all    his  originality  and   : 
tay  be  its  natural  tender  com- 

ivilization  tends  directly  toward  jilr. 
ancl  rsity,  and  individual  peculiaritii-s.  but  the 

:c  school  does  not  recognize  this  : 
Low  down  in  the  scale  of  life  we  not  it  o  hut  little  d^ 

all  alikr.      \V.    oai 

any  difference  b< ••  \o  foxes  of  tlie  same  age  and  sext 

logs  and  horses  differ,  because  for  been 

influences  of  man   until  th- 

tion   corresponds  to  that  of  the  .     In 

the  early  ages  men  differed  from  one  another  far  less  than 


HOME  TRAINING.  69 

they  do  at  present.  Civilization  and  a  tendency  to  diver- 
sity are  so  closely  dependent  on  common  causes  that  what- 
ever hinders  the  one  hinders  also  the  other.  Of  course 
we  would  not  contend  that  the  common  schools  retard 
civilization,  although  in  this  respect  they  certainly  have  a 
tendency  to  retard  it. 

In  the  public  schools  all  are  compelled  to  take  the 
same  course,  regardless  of  their  individual  peculiarities 
of  talent.  If  a  pupil  is  by  nature  poorly  endowed  with 
the  mathematical  talent,  he  must  go  through  just  as  fast 
but  no  slower  than  the  others.  The  explanations  that 
suffice  for  those  who  are  mathematically  inclined  must 
suffice  for  him  also.  No  provision  is  made  for  taste  or 
talent. 

But  this  is  not  the  case  when  the  children  are  educated 
at  home.  Every  peculiarity  of  talent  may  be  provided  for. 
Then  there  is  a  great  source  of  pleasure  in  the  education 
of  one's  own  children.  It  tends  to  perpetuate  the  author- 
ity which  parents  ought  to  have  over  their  children.  If 
the  child  has  been  educated  by  his  parent  he  will  never 
cease  to  have  the  highest  respect  for  that  parent.  This  is 
a  strong  reason  why  parents  should  educate  themselves 
and  keep  pace  with  their  children  in  all  their  studies  ;  for 
although  dutiful  children  will  always  respect  their  parents 
however  ignorant  they  may  be,  yet  intelligent  parents, 
those  capable  of  instructing  their  children,  will  be  re- 
spected still  more.  Then,  if  for  no  other  reason,  the  chil- 


• 
of  the  parent  ami  the  n-^j..  ;!d. 

• 

068,  l>Ut 

affections  and  made  them  n:  >es.     N«  i.  did 

care  cease  here  !  .ally, 

_,'»•.   and   M-nt    tl, 

.      been  <          I 

ii  this  a  ben 
of  tin.  nil   turn  foi 

national  strife  I 
:  those  l>oys  ever  cease  to  i  hat 

!ly  known  that 

with   th-  ilh   which   we   honor  our  pa 

Now  the  children  of  such  mothers  as  we  ha  . 

utlly  a  sense  of  honor  and  j-an-ntal  : 

:is    and  -.  ith 

>ee  why  the  cliildren 

usually  religious.     The  uii  life 

h  woman  is  a  stronger  arg:  lian  all  the 

silver  irony  of  prostitir  is. 

re  are, of  cour>e.  1m;  -hers  or  fathers  who  can 

nd  this  is  not  necessary 
in  order  to  iie  doctrine  we  1.  .  ..cated.     There 


HOME  TRAINING.  71 

are  but  few  boys  and  girls  who  go  to  college.  Nor  is  it 
necessary  to  keep  the  children  home  from  school.  Th« 
mother  can  superintend  the  education  of  a  child  even 
Jvhile  he  is  in  school.  The  teacher's  function  should  be 
something  more  than  merely  listening  to  the  recitation  of 
the  pupil.  But  this  is  nearly  all  that  the  average  teacher 
does.  Hence  the  mother  has  a  wide  field  even  while  her 
child  is  in  the  public  school. 

There  seems  to  be  a  growing  tendency  on  the  part  of 
mothers  to  entrust  the  training  of  their  children  to  the 
hands  of  hired  nurses.  This  is  a  great  error.  In  the  first 
place,  its  breaks  the  current  of  divine  magnetism  between 
mother  and  child  which  ought  to  make  the  mental  pulses 
of  both  beat  in  unison.  Again,  it  has  a  tendency  to  dimin- 
ish filial  reverence  in  the  child.  By  separating  him  from 
his  mother  at  that  tender  age  in  which  the  links  of  the 
eternal  chain  should  be  forged,  we  render  it  almost  impos- 
sible for  him  to  love  her  as  he  ought.  This  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  the  modern  fashionable  mother  sees  her 
child  only  as  a  visitor  would  see  it.  The  child  must  be 
dressed  up  as  if  to  entertain  strangers,  and  when  he  begins 
to  cry  he  is  carried  away  at  once  by  the  nurse,  while  the 
mother  makes  another  appointment.  Perhaps  one  of  the 
most  striking  manifestations  of  God's  mercy  to  the  race  is 
seen  in  the  fact  that  comparatively  few  offspring  are  born 
of  such  women — if  the  license  of  literature  will  permit  us 
to  use  the  word  woman  in  this  connection.  Better  a  thou- 


n 

»4iiitl  times  that  t  D  the 

boa  n  h  •  HI  at. 


>•  Bolter  in  bar  oOee  hold*  UM  key 
•tM  MMl;  sad  the  It  U  who  «urap«  the  coin 

>*neicr,  and  make*  UM  beloic  who  would  be  a  M 
Boi  (Mr  bw  feoUfl  are,  a  ChrittUa  man." 


REWARDS   AND    PUNISHMENTS. 


HE  rewards  and  punishments  of  home  should 
be  analogous  to  those,  if  not  identical  with 
them,  which  God  has  already  instituted  as 
natural  rewards  and  punishments.  There 
should  be  little  or  nothing  artificial  in  the 
rewards  or  punishments  of  home. 

If  a  child  is  bribed  to  do  his  duty  by  some 
promise  of  reward,  he  is  likely  to  acquire  the 
fatal  habit  of  performing  virtuous  acts  from 
low  motives.  The  approval  of  conscience  is 
the  natural  reward  for  the  performance  of 
one's  duty.  If  an  artificial  reward  is  substi- 
tuted for  this,  the  motive  is  transferred  from 
conscience  to  some  selfish  faculty,  and  the 
whole  moral  character  becomes  depraved. 
Hence  no  reward  should  ever  be  given  for 
the  mere  performance  of  duty  when  it  is 
clear  to  the  child  that  it  is  his  duty.  In 
some  cases  where  the  desired  act  seems  to  be 
an  act  of  self-sacrifice  on  the  part  of  the  child,  and  one 
which  he  does  not  understand  to  be  particularly  his  duty, 
H  is  perfectly  right  and  often  wise  to  offer  rewards.  But 


'mso   tilings  which  his  o\\ 

• 

!  I 

iliilig   to  do,  ami   i 
Ulent    lie-  in   a   napkin    \\ith. .ut 
OOUK. 
if  it 
• 

. 

own 

afford  tli- 
\\' 

•   tlic   sons.-  of  duty.      It   >hould 

pass  iitnild  n.it  l>e  re- 

min<:  :t    it.     '1 

..-i's    under  which  it 
offer  a  rew.ml  t->  a  child. 

\\'c  would    not    ha  :ood,   li^ 

wards  should  be  fnr   those  acts   \\i 

't    apjirove.       Siu-li    acts,  of 

bonld 

be  of.  ose  which  i! 

of  the  child,  if  i;  ail.  \vm; 

we  i:  t   a  base  ^e^ 

made  to  supplement  conscience  in  such  a  v, 


REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS.  75 

come  the  ruling  motive.  If  it  be  found  that  conscience  is 
acting  at  all,  do  not  offer  a  reward  to  complete  the  motive 
and  make  it  strong  enough  to  rule  his  act,  but  try  to  stim- 
ulate conscience  to  a  still  higher  degree  of  action,  until  its 
motive  becomes  sufficient  of  itself  to  produce  the  desired 
result. 

As  a  rule  the  reward  when  given  should  appeal  to  the 
mental  rather  than  the  physical.  It  should  be  something 
which  has  a  tendency  to  stimulate  the  thinking  or  invent- 
ive powers  rather  than  something  which  merely  satisfies 
a  physical  want.  It  is  generally  better  to  give  a  book 
than  a  drum,  although  there  are  far  meaner  rewards  than 
a  drum.  Candy  and  sweetmeats  should  never  under  any 
circumstances  be  offered.  That  which  is  unfit  for  an 
adult  is  surely  unfit  to  constitute  a  reward  for  a  child.  It 
is  a  fact  that  the  world  makes  its  greatest  efforts  in  re- 
sponse to  the  demands  of  sensual  gratification.  Is  it  un- 
reasonable to  suppose  that  the  foundation  of  this  evil  is 
laid  in  childhood  through  the  pernicious  practice  of  re- 
warding children  with  sweetmeats  ? 

A  toy  steam  engine  or  some  machine  which  will  stimu- 
late the  constructive  or  inventive  faculty  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  appropriate  present  which  can  be  given  to  a  boy. 

There  are  circumstances,  however,  under  which  it 
would  be  improper  to  give  such  gifts.  In  case  the  child 
is  already  too  much  inclined  to  mental  activity,  no  present 
should  be  given  which  will  farther  stimulate  the  intellect. 


76 

pecialh  in  the  rilies. 

"f  jjkati  -  '  ••  .1  far 

gift  than  a  book  or  even  a  steam  enj: 
•   ttic  worst 
the  sul  rewards 

iit  to  be 
fulfil.  pens  in  many  cases  that 

i  falsehood.     All  promises  mad 

fulfilled,  for  the  whole  lift* 

character  of  the  child  m.:  •  u«li- 

ated  promise.     Let  iu>  j..tr.-nt  assume  >msi- 

'.esson  i;. 
:s  of  home  should  be,  as  far  as  poss 

•    •    •     •  . 

point  and  making  a  d  same 

of  pun;  which   nature  herself  inflicts  fur  the 

offense. 

•'io  natural  punishment  which  Nature  has 
Isehood  is  the  suspicion  and  clis- 
ur  fellow  nv 

hood,  he  should  be  made  to  feel  that  he  has  d  ne  th.. 
<  the  susjncion  of  the  whole  family, 
should  be  turned  upon  him  with  a  pitying  d 

B  withdrawal  of 

the  h  1  love  of  society,  and  in  addition  th- 

the  ii  .    Selfishness  is  alwu 


REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS.  77 

the  end.  Hence  when  a  child  has  encroached  upon  the 
rights  of  his  brothers  or  sisters  through  selfishness,  the 
sympathy  of  the  family  should  be  withdrawn,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  should  be  prevented  from  reaping  the  bene- 
fit which  he  anticipated  from  his  selfish  act.  The  other 
children  should  be  made  to  feel  that  he  is  actually  unwor- 
thy of  their  society.  In  certain  cases,  perhaps,  he  should  be 
banished  from  the  society  of  the  family  and  even  shut  up 
in  his  room,  as  a  severer  punishment  and  as  a  more  direct 
and  literal  application  of  that  principle  which  is  involved 
in  the  banishment  to  which  society  always  dooms  the  self- 
ish man.  God  has  made  society  on  such  a  plan  that  it 
cannot  tolerate  selfishness.  He  has  also  arranged  our  na- 
ture so  that  the  very  best  thing  for  the  selfish  man  is  to 
have  society  shun  him.  It  is  the  medicine  that  will  cure 
him  if  he  is  curable. 

Now  is  it  not  safe  to  follow  God's  method  in  punishing 
the  child  for  selfishness  at  home  ?  Who  will  come  so  near 
to  challenging  the  wisdom  of  God  as  to  style  this  "  idle 
theory  "  ?  If  the  child  be  defeated  in  his  selfish  purpose 
by  the  parent,  and  he  is  banished  for  an  hour  or  a  day,  as 
the  case  may  be,  from  the  sympathy  of  the  family,  he  will 
come  to  feel  by  no  process  of  logic,  perhaps,  but  by  the 
force  of  habit  and  association,  that  such  conduct  on  the 
part  of  others  is  the  necessary  and  inevitable  accompani- 
ment of  his  selfishness,  that,  it  is  founded  in  the  everlasting 
relations  of  his  social  nature.  When  he  becomes  a  man  he 


OUR  nous. 

•  >m  socie 
he  itill  persists  in  his  >••  .11        ill  thru 

• 

•MI  it  ait'l  the  offense  is  C 

...      I'     .•.-..•'•••:••'      :  .  •    :    irsued    tl,.-   .  l.iM  \\ill  in 
ouree  of  two  kinds  «,f  pi. 

same  of: 

One.      1  ii-  human  miml  i-.  unable  t<> 

necessan  1  the 

pain    inllii  tod   lr.  th  a   liii 

oonaequence   tlie   child    rebels,   at   1> 

e  is  made  more  sell i: >1 1  than  before.     He  will 
and  nn TO  selfish  as  he  grows  -  <-s  to 

il  punishment   fi 

will  rebel  against  that  from  the  mere  force  of  habit, 
will  come  to  hate  s<  \ill  be  CM -Id  aii'i 

rtiiin   a   morbid  :it  of  ill  will 

toward  «*•  I    mi  by  tin-  feeling    tlia1 

him  a  debt,  he  may  be  led  to  commit  some 
idful   crime  again>t  his  ft-llowmen.      '. 
;it   H  large  per  cent,  of  the  pir..  hers, 

and  murderers  are  sii'  ^e  of  the  unwise  and  illogical 

ion  between  the   offenses  and   punishments   of  their 
childhood. 

One   has  truthfully  said,  "  Caprice  or  violence  in   cor- 
recting will  go  far  to  justify  the  transgressor  in  his  own 


REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS.  79 

eyes  at  least ;  he  will  consider  every  appearance  of  injus- 
tice as  a  vindication  of  his  own  aggression."  Who  has  not 
seen  a  confirmation  of  this  among  school  boys  ?  Often  a 
boy  is  whipped  by  a  teacher  when  if  property  managed  he 
would  willingly  express  his  sorrow  for  the  offense.  But 
after  the  whipping  he  goes  sullenly  to  his  seat  muttering 
to  himself,  "I'm  glad  I  did  it."  He  is  glad  he  did  it 
because  he  feels  that  his  teacher  has  wronged  him,  and 
that  in  a  certain  sense  the  offense  which  he  himself  has 
committed  makes  them  even.  Human  beings,  and  espe- 
cially children,  when  under  the  influence  of  anger,  are  not 
very  reasonable,  and  are  not  inclined  to  take  very  impar- 
tial views  of  subjects. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  he  ought  to  look  at  it  differ- 
ently ;  that  he  has  no  right  to  look  at  it  so  partially ;  that 
the  case  is  plain  if  he  will  look  at  it  rightly.  Very  well, 
but  if  he  doesn't  look  at  it  rightly,  the  facts  of  the  case 
are  of  no  benefit  to  him,  and  he  receives  all  the  injurious 
results  to  his  moral  nature  that  he  would  receive  if  the 
facts  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  case. 

There  is  no  possible  human  act  that  is  not  right  or 
wrong  ;  if  right  it  is  self  rewarding,  and  if  wrong  it  is  self- 
punishing.  It  is  the  function  of  human  authority  to  teach 
the  transgressor  wherein  his  transgressions  punish  them- 
selves. 

"  A  picture  memory  brings  to  m«: 
I  look  across  the  years  and  see 
Myself  beside  my  mother's  knee. 


. 

.       .. 

**  Hot  wiaer  BOW,  a  man  (ray  grown, 
My  childhood'*  need*  are  better  known. 
My  mother's  chastening  love  I  own. 

M  Gray  grown ,  but  in  our  Father's  sight 
A  child  still  groping  f 
To  read  hit  works  and  ways  aright. 

M I  bow  myself  beneath  hi*  hand; 
That  pain  iUelf  for  good  wa.i  planned, 
I  trust,  bat  cannot  understand. 

"I  fondly  dream  It  needs  mnxt  be. 
That  as  my  mother  •  me, 

80  with  his  children  dealeth  be. 

"  I  wait,  and  tnwt  the  end  will  prove 
That  here  and  there,  below,  above, 
The  "hflttiml1>t>  heals,  the  poln  is  lovel " 


AMUSEMENTS  FOR  THE  HOME. 


human  mind  demands  amusement.  One 
of  its  constituent  elements  is  a  love  of  fun. 
No  innate  demand  of  the  mind  can  be  denied 
without  injury.  Amusement  and  fun  are  as 
'  essential  to  the  growth  and  development  of 
the  young  mind  as  sleep,  or  any  form  of 
exercise.  Hence  we  have  no  sympathy 
with  that  sj^stem  of  home  government 
which  suppresses  this  element  in  the  chil- 
dren. Such  systems  are  suicidal,  and  one 
can  hardly  help  doubting  the  genuineness 
of  that  religion  that  imposes  perpetual 
melancholy  as  one  of  its  tenets.  It  has 
been  said  that  Christ  never  was  known  to 
laugh  but  often  to  weep,  and  if  he  foresaw  the  existence 
of  that  creed  that  suppresses  laughter  as  one  of  the  cardi- 
nal vices,  it  is  'no  wonder  that  he  never  laughed.  But 
there  is  no  evidence  that  he  did  not  laugh.  The  character 
of  his  mission  was  such  as  to  render  any  record  of  his 
lighter  moments  entirely  out  of  place.  It  is,  however,  a 
well  known  fact  that  Christ  was  of  a  thoughtful,  serious 

8 


Of  I! 

laughed,  the  fact  \v 

\Vc    ;i!  •     IK  it     • 

'   .  '. 

be   inijx'  Marriagi  1  im- 

poses obligat  < 

re  and  work  was  exi 
Were  it  not  for  the  supers  "lly  of  so  m 

•  •  said  on  th:  he  subject  would 

be  entirely  superfluous.     Probably  but  f«  peo- 

ple a!  they 

have  conscientious  scruples  against  laugl. 

>ands  of  stern  fa:  :«-ss  all  latigli- 

hoines,  as  a  religious  dut  •  \vouM 

•wledge  to  themselvi  laughter 

to  be  wrong  in  the  abstract,  and  yet  somehow  or  other 
they  manage  to  resolve  every  occasion  for  laughter  into 
something  that  ought  to  be  suppress* 

>  to  make  homo 

agreeable, and  even  to  furnish  occasions  for  merriment 
is  much  as  it  : nisli  f<>o«l  and  shelter.     Chi. 

'.d  not  be  required  to  remain  quiet  fcl  .ring 

.iiise  the  stern  f 

he  newspaper.     If  1;  »me- 

t  would  be  i:  LJ  to  the  children,  it  ; 

to  do  so.  All  parents  should  consider  themselves  under 
obligations  to  furnish  at  least  u  ie  paper  or  magazine  ex- 


AMUSEMENTS  FOR  THE  HOME.  83 

pressly  for  the  children.  Not  one  of  the  ponderous  and 
somber  journals  of  Zion,  but  one  full  of  light  jokes,  inter- 
esting stories,  and  such  information  as  children  desire  and 
can  appreciate.  Of  course  the  father  and  mother  are  to  be 
allowed  time  to  read  their  religious  and  political  papers, 
and  their  scientific  books ;  but  the  children's  right  in  this 
respect  must  not  be  encroached  upon.  It  will  not  hurt 
the  father  or  mother  to  read  aloud  from  the  "  Youth's 
Companion  "  or  some  other  paper  of  similar  character,  or, 
perhaps,  what  is  better  still,  they  can  lay  aside  their  own 
paper  and  listen  and  be  interested  while  one  of  the  older 
children  is  reading. 

Reading  aloud  by  parents  and  children  is  one  of  the 
most  useful  sources  of  amusement  in  every  home.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  amusement,  valuable  information  would  be  ob- 
tained, also  healthful  vocal  exercise  and  elocutionary  drill. 

Another  source  of  amusement,  peculiarly  appropriate 
for  the  home,  and  one  of  which  we  never  tire,  is  music. 
The  money  spent  for  a  musical  instrument  is  not  thrown 
away.  Every  home  should  contain  some  such  instrument, 
and  there  are  but  few  families  that  cannot  afford  a  piano 
or  an  organ.  There  is  something  in  the  nature  of  music 
that  tends  to  evolve  harmony  in  the  hearts  of  those  who 
jointly  produce  it  or  listen  to  it.  There  is  something  of 
philosophy  in  the  oft  quoted  words  of  Shakespeare : 

"  The  man  that  hath  no  music  iu  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  by  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils." 


M 


. 


it  arc  ili 

• 
• 
' 

mil  the 
on  wl. 

icssage  save  in  v,  ins. 

We  cannot  stand 

ithont  feeling  the  tios  gnr 

I 

;  In  mt   f, 
cd  our  sou' 

11     •     ;  ;>:-iat(>,    tln-ii.   as 

:ini>ic.     As  v  ht   yon  <lri\ 

exclude  mu 
lin  ;  and  let  the  girls  pl;iy   tlie  organ   or  the 

rpetual  tem, 
A  nlenf  home,  where  there  is  no  m 

little  conversation,  is  a  dull   a-  for  the 

-.£.     Children  do  not  lik. 
where  their   onl;  -.heir   own    : 


AMUSEMENTS  FOR  THE  HOME.  85 

There  is  nothing  worse  for  a  child  than  subjective  think- 
ing, thinking  of  his  own  thoughts.  It  leads  to  habitual 
melancholy,  and  this  state  is  so  thoroughly  unnatural  for  a 
child  that  it  cannot  exist  without  enfeebling  both  mind 
and  body.  Those  who  commit  suicide  will  be  found  in 
almost  every  instance  to  be  those  who  were  led  to  sub- 
jective thinking  during  the  long  winter  evenings  of  their 
childhood. 

A  boy  cannot  maintain  health  of  body  without  laughter, 
merriment,  and  fun.  We  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  a  lamb  would  not  maintain  its  bodily  health  and  grow 
to  be  a  mature  animal  if  it  were  prevented  from  running 
and  frolicking. 

Most  especially  does  the  feeling  of  merriment  assist  the 
digestive  function.  This  idea  is  already  prevalent  among- 
the  people,  and  yet  there  is  too  little  abiding  faith  in  the 
medicinal  virtue  of  fun.  Our  meals  should  be  scenes  of 
uninterrupted  merriment.  It  is  a  fact  universally  ac- 
knowledged that  the  American  people  eat  too  rapidly  for 
the  good  of  their  health.  Now  there  is  nothing  that 
checks  rapid  eating  like  fun  and  merry  conversation. 
One  of  the  evils  of  Puritanism,  which  we  have  not  yet 
outgrown,  was  the  idea  that  cheerful  conversation  is  unbe- 
coming at  meals.  The  children  were  taught  to  eat  in  si- 
lence at  the  second  table,  under  the  awful  superintendence 
of  their  parents,  who  had  eaten  up  all  the  good  things. 
The  eating  up  of  the  good  things,  however,  was  not  half  so 


86 

tin-in  to  put  on  long  faces,  and 

. 

a   from  Hut 

we  c.  11  how  thoroughly  r 

were  prepared  by  such  t:  time,  t<> 

i«'ii.     It  at  all  an  ex- 

travagant belief,  that  much  of  tl: 
its  remote  origin  am<  Puritans  in  their  cruel 

preesion  of  childish  mirth  at  the  family  board.     '1 
families  in  \\ : 

"children   >h«>uld   be  seen  but  not   heard."     We  ha\ 
with  that   doctrine.     Such  an   idea  could   I 
1  only  in  parental  selfishness.     In  tl;  f  our 

! fathers  the  chi!  indeed,  pitiable  creatures. 

Hut  we  are  gradually  becoming   more  civilized  on    this 
point.      The   same   principle    in    human    nature   that   haa 
-  for  the  "prevention  of  cruelty  to  an- 
imals" has  >  our  sentiments   inward   chi: 

>o  longer  regard  th.-m  as  so  many  wild  beasts  put 

into  our  hands  to  be  tamed.     Children  are  now  allowed  to 

1  most  of  their  time  in  the  pursuit  of  fun  and  to  laugh 

should  mingle  with  their  children  in  their  sports 
and  ^-  [t  ifl  not  unbecoming  to  a  mother  or  a  father 

to  play  with  a  child,  but,  on   the  contrary,  it   is  quit.- 
coming;  and  ..trging  one  of  the 


AMUSEMENTS  FOR  THE  HOME.  87 

highest  duties  that  have  been  imposed  upon  him.  This  is 
not  the  task  it  may  seem  to  be.  There  is  something  in 
the  relation  of  parent  and  child  that  makes  the  parent 
take  positive  delight  in  that  which  delights  the  child. 
Every  mother  knows  this  to  be  true.  There  is  that  in  the 
experience  of  every  one  which  testifies  to  this.  We  all  feel 
an  interest  in  those  things  which  interest  the  ones  we  love. 
This  principle  has  an  influence  even  over  the  senses.  Ar- 
ticles of  food  which  we  do  not  ordinarily  like,  when  eaten 
in  the  presence  of  a  loved  one  who  does  like  them,  actu- 
ally become  savory  to  us.  We  are  made  by  this  principle 
to  fall  into  the  same  line  of  thought  and  feeling  with  those 
we  love.  And  hence  the  mother  experiences  almost  as 
much  delight  from  playing  with  a  cart  as  does  her  child. 
This  same  principle  doubtless  accounts  for  the  fact  that 
all  animals  play  with  their  young.  This  is  Nature's  argu- 
ment. The  cat  and  dog,  however  old  and  dignified,  al- 
most continually  play  with  their  young ;  so  does  the 
lion,  and  probably  all  wild  animals.  Animals  that  cannot 
by  any  other  possible  means  be  induced  to  manifest  the 
slightest  degree  of  playfulness,  are  full,  or  appear  to  be 
full,  of  fun  and  frolic  while  rearing  their  young.  Do  not 
these  facts  proclaim  a  natural  law?  Playing  with  chil- 
dren is  a  subject  of  more  importance  than  most  people  are 
aware  of. 

The  oldest  of  a  family  of  children  often  has  a  bad  dispo- 
sition, and  it  is  doubtless  due  to  the  fact  that  it  had  no 


001  BOM*. 

! 

i    in 
• 

,3  are  b  1   their  minds  ai 

pad.    N  >w,  if 
law  and  bee. 

.  while  they  are 

.Id  be  fouiul. 

.  ason  \\  '.  irm  her 

;r  home  to  leave  it  at  tl: 

poasi'  '   I.. el  1: 

:inl    unhappy  homes   are   seldom    Ion' 

ITS.      I'm    let    them 
:ip  in  their  : 

likr  !  :nl  \\lieii  tin-  h.-ur  « >f  reunion  dr;.  with 

its   glad    tidings    and   joyful   welcome 

rilel  ten  '    hut 

will  .  ith   open    hearts   and   smilii. 

back  again  the  same  :  y  earned  a\\  ay.  tliat 

' 

Hut  children  are  not  the  only  beings  that. require  amuse* 
incuts.     All  reqi 

lired   by  th 

shop,  the  office,  or  the  store.     Human  being* 
need  but  very  little  of  that  kind  of  n-  .d  what  the/ 


AMUSEMENTS  FOR  THE  HOME.  80 

get  during  the  hours  of  sleep.  If  there  could  be  found  a 
vocation  into' which  all  the  faculties  should  be  exercised 
alike,  those  engaged  in  such  a  vocation  would  require  no 
amusement  beyond  what  would  necessarily  result  from 
exercising  the  faculty  of  mirth  equally  with  the  other  fac- 
ulties. But  the  relations  of  human  life  afford  no  such  vo- 
cation, hence  the  wisdom  of  making  special  provision  for 
amusements. 

Suppose  we  have  a  complicated  machine,  only  a  part 
of  which  is  in  action,  half  of  the  wheels  remaining  motion- 
less. Now  suppose  we  discover  that  the  machine  is  wear- 
ing out  in  that  part  which  is  constantly  exercised.  What 
shall  we  do  to  maintain  the  symmetry  of  the  machine 
and  prevent  it  from  becoming  in  a  short  time  useless? 
Will  it  be  sufficient  to  simply  stop  the  machine  a  few 
hours  or  days  and  then  start  it  again  ?  Surely  not,  for 
half  of  it  is  now  actually  rusting  out  from  the  want  of 
being  used.  One  half  needs  rest  and  the  other  part  needs 
action  in  order  to  check  the  process  of  destruction.  Hence 
the  only  way  to  accomplish  the  desired  result  is  to  stop 
the  part  that  has  been  continually  running  and  start  the 
other  part. 

Tins  illustration  explains  the  whole  philosophy  of  amuse- 
ments and  recreations.  Man  does  not  need  to  rest,  but 
simply  to  start  up  the  other  half  of  his  vital  and  mental 
machinery,  and  home  furnishes  the  only  adequate  motive 
power. 


OUi 

<.wn  not.  when  roistering  boy«  or  tow  or  strike 
The  bounding  ball,  or  k»i  ride 

Tb«  mastered  steed  that,  u  the  rider,  lore* 
Th«  rasalng  eoone,  or  when  with  ringing  steel 
Tb*  pollahed  loe  lb*r  »wi  •  s'n; 

All  ptauing  paitlrpM,  iooooent  deligbu, 
That  gladden  bearu  yet  »impl«  and  ninccre, 
Let  lore  parental  f»i;  t lie  borne, 

And  eoDMcrate  by  tharing  ;  let  it  » .-. 

.  kind,  approving  smilM  eacb  merry  game 
That  <|n  .ind  in  Uii 

Tbat  beams  from  crimson  cheek*  and  sparkling  eytf 
lit  own  renew,  and  lire  its  childhood  o'er." 


HOME  SMILES. 


SMILE  is  the  most  useful  thing  in  the  world 
hi  proportion  to  its  cost.  It  costs  absolutely 
nothing,  but  its  utility  is  often  beyond  esti- 
mation. It  comes  as  the  involuntary  and 
irrepressible  expression  of  a  sentiment  that 
lies  at  the  basis  of  human  society.  Smiles 
constitute  a  part  of  our  language.  There 
seem  to  be  certain  combinations  of  words  that 
require  to  be  supplemented  with  a  smile  be- 
fore they  can  have  any  meaning  to  us. 
The  humors  soul,  shrouded  in  the  mysteries  of  personal- 
ity, yearns  to  know  the  essence  of  other  souls,  as  it  were,  to 
touch  a  band  in  the  dark,  and  smiles  are  the  electric 
flashes  that  illumine  the  wide  gulf  that  separates  indi- 
vidualities. 

There  is  a  mystery  in  what  we  call  acquaintance.  Ac- 
quaintance, however,  is  not  the  proper  word,  but  since 
human  language  affords  no  apter  one  we  shall  be  obliged  to 
use  it.  Why  should  we  say  that  we  are  acquainted  with 
this  one  and  not  with  that  one  ?  Acquaintanceship  does 
not  consist  in  a  knowledge  of  an  individual's  peculiarities 
of  character  or  disposition,  for  we  sometimes  feel  ac- 


ud  wiih  IX.TSODS  whose  minds  are  £•  k a  to  us. 

;taml  thrill.      Thrir  I  ho',  ^teri- 

0118  a:  Kr  «l  turn 

is  wholl  eeted  to  us  and  which  we  c;. 

.  and  yet  we  feel  perfectly   acquainted 

••re  are  others  whose  minds  are  as  transparent  as  glass. 
>ns  are  perf<  D  the 

sight  of  all.     We  can  almost  antic 

ami  vi  t  we  \\  :  think  of  speak '.  utise, 

as  we  say,  we  are  not  acquainted  with  tl 

A«  :•*  not  a  con'.  lity  of  .^  r  it 

may  be  <  ad  primitive  coramuj 

.'.ionalities  of   sock-ty    have  little 
weiglit.     It  is  more  strongly  ma:  in  little  chi 

can  talk    than    in    ol«:  Le.     This 

.iay  be,  'ural 

.     In  what  then  dees  it  consist?     V 
passes  b»  ails  when  a  third  party 

.Mr. ,  Mr. "?     There  is  usually  some  form  of  salu- 

bo w  or  the  shaking  of  h  ihere 

is  nothing  of  a  permanent  or  essential  nature  in 
node  of  salutation  differs  in  different  nations 
inanities.     The   Turks  fold  their  arms  across  tl. 

rs  touch  their  noses  :  and  in 
'icrn  Africa  they  rub  their  toes  together. 
Bu  >  one  act  that  accompanies  all  these  different 


HOME  SMILES.  93 

modes,  oiie  rite  that  never  varies.  It  is  the  smile.  The 
philosophy  of  acquaintance  is  wrapt  up  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  smile.  When  two  smiles  have  met,  two  souls  are 
acquainted.  A  smile  is  the  sign  that  a  soul  gives  when  it 
would  examine  another  soul. 

Every  soul  in  the  universe  lives  alone.  There  is  a 
dark  curtain  dropped  before  the  window  of  its  house 
which  hides  it  from  the  view  of  all.  Every  one  has  felt 
his  loneliness  even  in  the  midst  of  crowds.  Souls  cannot 
come  into  contact,  but  they  can  draw  aside  the  curtain 
from  the  window.  To  smile  is  to  draw  aside  the  curtain. 
The  fondest  souls  can  do  no  more.  Even  lovers  must 
caress  through  a  window. 

At  home,  these  curtains  should  often  be  drawn  aside,  for 
there  is  nothing  so  fatal  to  a  home  as  to  have  its  members 
become  unacquainted  with  each  other.  And  there  is  noth- 
ing so  difficult  as  to  renew  the  acquaintance  of  brothers 
and  sisters,  when  once  it  has  been  lost.  When  they  begin 
to  be  restrained  and  self-conscious  in  each  other's  society ; 
when  they  begin  to  review  with  indifference  those  phases 
of  life  over  which  they  once  smiled  and  wept  together, — 
they  are  unconsciously,  perhaps  unwillingly,  cutting  each 
other's  acquaintance.  There  is  no  sadder  sight  on  earth 
than  that  of  a  brother  and  sister  who  are  unacquainted. 
The  coldness  and  reserve  that  springs  up  between  the 
members  of  so  many  families  originates  in  a  lack  of 
"smiles  at  home." 


• 

US  to 

or  the  habitual  H 

of  tli 

in  the  sense  of  the  hi 

certain   articles   of  dress  g  on  all 

,-.ial  gra 
joy  a:  They  se> 

•anther's  thoughtful  face  as  \\hen  th- 
the    <lip.!  >-k   of  l.i  !,    or    with 

magic  play  tr  -  to  twinkling  s: 

:th  which  we  would  I 

as  vases  of 
house. 

6  legal  tender  in  every  famil 
•  if  kind;  !  each  member  should 

be  willing  to  take  this  currency  at  i 
value  li  of  those  disturbing  inllu- 

!    i.f  commerce.      And.  what 

than    all.  it    can  never   be  demo-  for  it  bears  the 

utahle  stamp  of  the  divine  government. 

members  of  the  family,  almost  as  often  as  t 
meet,  greet  each  other  with  a  smile,  :  that  meet  in 

full  gaze  without  a  smile  soo:  sold.     The  mother,  if 

she  would  keep  the  confidence  of  her  son,  must  be  lavish  of 


HOME  SMIL  Hi).  95 

her  smiles.  Mothers  often  weep  in  tlie  presence  of  their 
sons  on  account  of  the  anxiety  that  they  feel  for  them. 
This  is  a  great  error,  for  in  the  first  place  it  leads  a  young 
man  to  conceal  that  which  he  believes  would  displease  his 
mother.  This  is  often  the  beginning  of  a  fatal  reserve. 
Besides,  it  causes  him  to  feel  that  his  mother  has  not  con- 
fidence in  him,  and  that  however  much  she  may  love  him 
she  fears  to  trust  his  honor. 

The  smile  is  nature's  cure  for  the  disease  of  bashfulness. 
This  disease  is  simply  the  fear  which  one  soul  experiences 
in  approaching  another.  But  the  smile  is  an  instinctive 
effort  to  suppress  the  fear  and  to  know  the  soul. 

A  knowledge  of  this  principle  would  be  of  great  service 
to  ':hose  having  the  charge  of  bashful  children.  Strangers 
shculd  always  eocourage  a  smile  in  a  bashful  child.  Such 
children  should  be  met  with  smiles  rather  than  with  words. 
The  smile  is  tho  only  form  of  salutation  that  a  bashful 
child  can  use.  lie  cannot  speak  to  a  stranger  in  audible 
language,  but  if  the  stranger  will  consent  to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  smiles  he  may  almost  always  gain  quick  admis- 
sion to  his  confidence.  When  the  bashful  child  smiles  and 
blushes  and  hangs  his  head  in  the  presence  of  strangers, 
there  is  great  hope  that  he  will  outgrow  the  infirmity,  for 
the  smile  is  an  instinctive  effort  to  overcome  it.  But 
where  the  child  is  not  inclined  to  smile  there  is  little  hope, 
and  the  malady  usually  degenerates  iivtc  moroseness  and 
oddity. 


..••, 

hftbitaal  ai 

mot*  eral  hea  .ire  especial! 

ease  of  the  stomach  «»r  li 

ile*  abo  pr«<  tt  growth  of  the  religious  ;-• 

',  because  tl.  without  a  *  -ens« 

'.ly  «!«>  ti  Culti- 

vate benevolence,  for 

s  by  giv:    :       There   are  few  souls   that  can  "si 
and   iiiunlt-r  while  they  smile."     Noi.-  '.  can  nu: 

while  iile  fn.ni  the  heart.     There  may  be  the  same 

movement  «.f  the  facial  muscles,  hut  smiles  are  not  merely 
contractions  of  certain  u  They  are  mental  acte. 

The  act<T  may  give  the  outward  expression  of  a  smile, 
and  murder  while  he  smiles,  but  the  words  of  the  ; 
dramatist  are  not  true  of  a  single  human  soul  except  the 
imile  be  spurious. 

"  Sweet  U  the  smile  of  borne;  the  mutual  look 

Where  hearts  are  of  each  other  sure; 
Sweet  all  the  joys  that  crowd  the  household  nook. 
The  haunt  of  all  affections  pore." 


JOYS  OF   HOME. 


OY  is  the  natural  and  normal  condition  of 
every  human  soul.  To  be  genuine  and  per- 
manent it  must  depend  chiefly  on  internal 
instead  of  external  conditions.  Every  nat- 
ural  function  both  of  the  body  and  of  the 
mind  is  attended  with  pleasure  and  never 
with  pain,  unless  it  be  the  penalty  for  a 
broken  law.  If  walking  is  not  pleasurable, 
it  is  because  there  is  some  trouble  with  the 
physical  system.  If  daylight  does  not  bring 
to  the  eye  positive  pleasure,  it  is  because  the 
eye  is  diseased  and  there  is  a  maladjustment 
between  it  and  the  light.  The  difficulty  is 
always  on  the  part  of  the  eye  and  never  on  the  part  of  the 
light.  When  the  song  of  birds,  the  sighing  of  the  breeze, 
the  rippling  of  the  brook,  the  chirping  of  the  insect  and 
the  thousand  voices  of  nature  do  not  bring  to  the  ear  and 
soul  the  exquisite  sense  of  divine  harmony,  it  is  because 
sin  with  rude  hand  has  broken  the  chords  of  the  spirit's 
harp.  We  always  hear  music  at  second  hand,  just  as  we 
see  beauty.  Hence  it  has  been  said  that  "  beauty  is  in  the 
eye  of  the  gazer,  and  music  is  in  the  ear  of  the  listener.'1 

7 


o*  OUR  HOME. 

>-  is  philosophy  in  this  haying,  for  all   the   music  that 
we  hear  is  that  which  the  soul  itself  produces  when  it  re- 
sponds to  the  myriad  voices  from  without.     These  s< 
ami  voices  from  nature,  God's  great  orchestra,  must  be  re- 

the  soul's  response  before 

music  to  us.     It  is  not  the  music  without  that  we  heai 
ition  of  it. 

soul  be  tuned  to  the  same  key  so  as  to  give 
.1  true  response,  rest  assured  that  our  lives  will  be  filled 
with  harmony  and  joy,  for  God's  hand  n<  kes  a  dis- 

oord, 

B  secret  of  human   j»y,  then,  is   to   keep  th> 
harp  in  tune.     To  the  spirit  whose  harp  is  out  of  tune,  the 
is  are  but    unsightly  rags  with  which  the   mantle  of 
the  sky  is  patched  :  the  mountain  in  its  grandeur  ; 

hard  to  climb  ;    the  sublime   thunder  of 
Niagara  is  but  a  1  difficult  to  sleep; 

_TS  of  birds,  the  patter  of  the  rain,  the  laugh- 
ter and   •  .s  of  t lie  woods  are  but   the   troublesome 

:le  of  N;r 

Joy  cannot  be  with  gold.      There   is  but 

thing  that  Nature  will  take  in  .-xi-hange  for  it.  and  that  is 
obedience  to  the  divine  laws  of  our  being.  Joy  is  the 
only  legitimate  and  necessary  product  of  every  normal  and 
healthy  function.  It  is  absolutely  impossible  for  any 
function  of  our  being,  if  healthy  and  normal  in  its  a< 
to  produce  anything  but  joy,  no  matter  what  may  be  the 


JOYS  OF  HOME.  99 

outward  conditions.  The  truest  and  highest  joy  is  a  prod- 
uct of  health,  and  is  but  partially  dependent  on  external 
•conditions. 

Nature  aims  at  no  other  grand  result  than  that  of  joy. 
She  has  created  the  myriad  varieties  of  fruit  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  palate.  For  the  joy  of  the  eye  she  has  painted 
on  the  earth's  green  canvas  the  gentle  hints  of  heaven,  and 
bathed  the  picture  in  the  liquid  silver  of  the  sunlight. 
For  the  ear  she  has  filled  the  earth  with  harmony  divine. 
For  the  joy  of  our  social  and  domestic  natures  she  has 
instituted  the  home,  the  fireside  and  society.  For  our  in- 
tellectual nature  she  has  filled  the  universe  with  problems, 
the  solution  of  which  gives  us  exquisite  pleasure.  For  our 
spiritual  nature  she  has  given  the  heavenly  reward  of  an  ap- 
proving conscience.  Thus  is  joy  the  eternal  aim  of  Nature. 

On  whom  then  rests  the  blame  when  life's  joys  are  tar- 
nished and  its  sweetness  turned  to  bitterness?  Whom 
shall  we  blame  for  the  strained  and  weakened  eye  that 
makes  the  sunlight  painful  ?  Whom  shall  we  blame  for 
the  overwrought  brain  that  makes  causation  and  all  prob- 
lems irksome  ?  Whom  shall  we  blame  for  the  seared  and 
deadened  conscience  that  makes  duty  a  task  and  honor  a 
burden?  We  fancy  that  the  conscience  of  none  of  our 
readers  is  yet  so  far  deadened  that  he  will  not  quickly  an- 
swer, "  I  myself  am  to  blame." 

The  clamor  for  joy  and  pleasure,  then,  when  rightly  in- 
terpreted, is  a  universal  call  to  duty,  for  the  reward  of 


100 

duty  is  unalloyed  jo\  .1   call    t<>  stud\ 

.it  of  dtr 
It  i*  a  tin- 

usep- 

arablc  a*  M,  .mil  without   them  it 

:••.';  i     this    o: 

obedi>  tin-   phyMcal,  ii.  .1   and    moral   la' 

our  being  is  •  iition  t 

us,  a:  .e  condition  is  complied  with  slu-  will 

shower  upon  intold.     She  will   make   th.-  bn-.: 

morning  a  sou  jht.    Tin-  v«-ry  COHM 

IU08  of  e\  will  thrill  us  with  that  joy  which  all  have 

felt  ;r  .  undetih.  d   too  subtl. 

sis.     External  objects  and  conditions  seen. 
no  part  in  the  program.     At  most  they  are  only  the  occa- 
sions and  not    the  rau.-^-s   of  the  joy.     We   look   into   the 
face  of  a  friend  or  oi.  of  a  lake  and  \\< 

an  unutterable  joy  coursing  through  all  the  channels  of  our 
being,  and  welling  up  M!  we  ca 

for  our  lives  t«-ll  why  we  laugh.     The  joy   that    comes  to 
perfe  h  with  the  sweet    intoxication  of  the  mor 

dew,  is  "  the  purest  ;t  '  .eld." 

Such  Kountifi;.  for  obe« 

We  have  dwelt  thus  at  length  on  the  laws  that  go 
the  emotion  of  jo;.  ,.ive  an  important  hearing 

on  the  subject  of  wh  ng. 


JOYS  OF  HOME.  101 

The  fireside  is  the  only  spot  where  it  is  possible  to  obey 
all  the  laws  of  our  being :  hence  it  is  the  only  spot  where 
supreme  joy  can  exist.  Domestic  joy  is  the  only  joy  that 
is  complete. 

Truly  has  the  poet  said : 

"Domestic  joy,  thou  only  bliss 
Of  paradise  that  hath  survived  the  fall." 

Man  may  cultivate  his  intellect  and  derive  pleasure  from 
obedience  to  its  laws,  even  though  he  may  not  have  a  home. 
He  may  derive  a  joy  from  obedience  to  the  laws  of  his 
moral  nature  while  he  is  a  hermit  or  a  wanderer.  He  may 
even  derive  some  enjoyment  from  partial  obedience  to 
the  laws  of  his  social  nature.  But  all  enjoyment  from  this 
source  must  be  partial,  because  all  obedience  to  the  social 
law  must  be  incomplete  outside  the  domestic  circle.  The 
family  is  the  truest  type  of  society. 

But  without  a  fireside  man's  domestic  nature,  from  which 
he  derives  by  far  the  largest  amount  of  his  earthly  enjoy- 
ment, cannot  but  remain  cold  and  entirely  inactive.  This 
department  of  his  nature  can  be  kept  alive  only  by  the  heat 
of  the  hearth-stone.  The  home  is  the  place  where  all  the 
joys  of  life  may  exist  in  their  ripest  fruition. 

Even  the  intellectual  nature,  which  is  the  farthest  re- 
moved from  the  sphere  of  domestic  influence,  cannot  be 
developed  to  its  fullest  possibility  outside  of  the  home ;  for 
the  boy  requires  in  the  first  stage  of  his  intellectual  devel- 
opment the  wholesome  spirit  of  rivalry  and  emulation  that 


UM 

s  among  Id 

stage  he  need  -t  honest  comm- 

this  comes  in  iU  purest  and   mo  1   form   from  the 

he  same  family. 

uliar  to  the  iimnil  and  spiritual  naf. 

be  01  "id   far  below    what    this   jiart   of  our  be- 

ing ia  capable  of  yielding,  unless  it    be  cultivated   in  the 
sanct  .:.•.<  ice  must  be  kej>t  sharp  by  the 

pathe  • -ils  of  little  children,  by  tlie  tender  look- 

is  of  mothers  and  misters,  and   by  the  nit  • 

ions. 

I'.nd  in  these  •!  the  in 

of    In  1    how    much    is    signified    by    "the    joys    of 

"f  ours  are  necessary  to  imj)re>*  that 
the  minds  of  those  who  are  the 

of  haj-i-y  families.      With  what  feelings  of  delight  do 
look  forward  to  the  evening  hour  when  the  family. 

ith  joy.  shall  gather  around  the  board  with  mirth 
and  laughter.  ll<.\v  the  father's  heart  thrills  at  the  Midden 
thought  that  the  hour  is  near  when  he  shall  meet  his  loved 
ones;  when  he  shall  leave  his  care  and  troubles  all  behind, 
and  sit  in  his  easy  chair,  or  recline  upon  the  sofa,  and 
watch  the  fire-light  dancing  on  the  wall  and  hear  the 
merry  voices  of  the  children,  or  listen  to  the  sweet  music 
of  his  daughter's  voice.  Can  heaven  yield  a  sweeter  joy 
:  this? 

the  joys  of  home  are  not  to  be  measured  by  actual 


JOYS  OF  HOME.  103 

domestic  felicity,  for  home  has  joys  independent  of  this. 
There  is  joy  in  the  very  thought  that  one  has  a  home. 
There  is  joy  in  the  poetry  with  which  the  divine  artists  of 
time  and  memory  conspire  to  paint  the  old  homestead. 

Joy  is  heightened  and  pain  is  lightened  by  being  shared, 
but  home  is  the  only  place  on  earth  where  they  can  be  fully 
shared.  Everywhere  else  there  is  a  reserve  that  makes  our 
joys  and  pains  peculiarly  our  own.  At  home  the  heart 
may  be  opened,  and  all  that  it  knows  and  feels  may  be 
known  and  felt  by  others. 

The  joys  of  home  are  the  only  ones  of  which  we  never 
weary.  We  grow  tired  of  those  joys  that  come  from  min- 
gling promiscuously  in  society.  We  tire  of  the  exciting 
pleasures  of  trade  and  commerce.  We  tire  of  gazing  at  the 
marble  fronts  and  gilded  palaces  of  the  great  city.  We 
shut  our  eyes  and  close  our  ears  in  weariness  and  disgust 
even  at  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  public  park.  But  we 
never  grow  tired  of  mother's  song,  although  the  birds  in 
the  park  may  weary  us.  We  may  leave  the  art  gallery 
satiated,  but  the  old  pictures  on  the  walls  of  home  are  ever 
new. 

Let  us  then  cherish  the  joys  of  home,  for  their  perennial 
freshness  hints  at  their  eternity.  The  child,  who  with  his 
playmates,  wanders  from  his  home  over  the  hill  and  meadow, 
when  he  wearies  of  his  sports  and  games,  turns  at  nightfall 
to  his  home  to  lay  his  little  weary  head  upon  his  mother's 
breast.  So  when  we  shall  weary  of  the  little  sports  and 


104 

games  of  earth,  may  w<-  liml  our  homeward  way  back  acrooa 
life's  meadow  and  uj>  tin-  hi:  invshold  of  the  home 

.»!,  and  lay  our  weary  beads  upon  the  bosom  of  the 

ie,  forever  and  e 

"  Sweet  are  the  Joys  of  borne, 

And  pore  as  tweet;  for  they 
Like  d«w§  of  morn  and  eTenlof  ooma. 
To  make  and  close  the  day. 

•'  The  world  hath  iu  delights, 

And  tu  delusions,  too; 
Bat  home  to  calmer  bliss  invites, 
More  tranquil  and  more  tree. 

44  The  mountain  flood  is  strong, 

Bat  fearfal  in  iu  pride; 
While  gently  rolls  the  stream  aloof 
The  peaceful  valley's  aid*. 

M  Life's  charities,  like  light. 

Spread  smilingly  afar; 
Bat  stars  approached,  become  more  bright, 
And  home  is  life's  own  star. 

"  The  pilgrim's  step  in  vain 

Seeks  Eden's  sacred  ground  I 
But  in  home's  holy  joys  again 
An  Eden  may  be  foir 

M  A  glance  of  bearen  to  see, 

tie  on  earth  :-  ziven; 
And  yet  a  happy  family 
Is  but  an  earlier  heaven," 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  GIRLS. 


HE  education  of  woman  is  among  the  fore- 
most problems  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
It  is  something  more  than  a  social  problem. 
It  is  a  civil  and  political,  a  moral  and  re- 
ligious problem  as  well.  Inasmuch  as  the 
presence  of  woman  constitutes  one  of  the 
chief  charms  and  benefits  of  society,  and  in- 
asmuch as  it  is  she  who  far  more  than  man 
gives  character  to  society,  her  education  and  culture  are  a 
social  problem. 

But  into  her  care  have  been  entrusted  the  nation's  future 
statesmen,  those  who  are  soon  to  be  clothed  with  authority 
and  to  make  laws  for  the  government  of  mankind.  Hence 
her  education  becomes  a  civil  and  political  problem.  Not 
only  is  she  entrusted  with  the  guardianship  of  the  intellect 
and  character  of  the  world's  statesmen  and  philosophers, 
but  her  gentle  presence,  as  she  bends  over  the  cradle,  and 
the  silent  influence  of  her  daily  life  are  shaping  the  entire 
moral  character  of  the  coming  generation ;  and  thus  does 
the  education  of  woman  become  a  great  moral  problem. 
Again,  since  she  shapes  the  moral  character  of  the  world, 


lor.  •  HOME. 

in,  «•  the  eternal  destiny  of  man  depends  upon 

character  in  this  :  it  here.  <>mes 

In*  hese  momentous  fuels  what  should  c< 

the  «  i  of  our  girls?     Human  life  is  short  an 

powers  of  endurance  are  limited.     None  of  us  can  reasona- 
bly hope  to  accomplish  all  that  our  im.  D  may  j,i 
to  our   minds  as  desirable.     We             •    approp. 
great  sea  of  knowledge.     We  sur.              ot  do  be1 

-aac  Newton,  who  picked  up  only  a  few  pebbles  on  the 
shore.     But  whether  we  are  able  t<>  pick  up  one  or  many 
of  these  pebbles  we  should  select  only  those  whoso 
shape  best  adapt  them  to  our  purpose. 

have  no  argument  to  offer   against   the  study  of 
those  branches  which  utilitarians  are  wont  to  condemn  as 
involving  a  waste  of  time  and  energy.     \V    1.  .,«•  no  sym- 
pathy with  this  utilitarian   idea.      We  pity  the  man  \\ 
a,ble    even     t  and     utility. 

That  mind  which  does  not  see  the  highest  use  in  Niagara 
is  but  po'  'loped  and  poorly  e<i  Nature  has 

drawn  no  line  between  the  beautiful  and  the  useful.     On" 
the  contrary,  she  has  purposely  blended  them  in  an  : 
tinguishable  union.     Every  apple   tree  is  first  a  vase  of 
flowers  and  then  a  golden  fruit  basket.     A  blossom  is  the 
preface  to  every  useful  product.     Before  Nature  can  allow 
a  potato  to  grow  and  ripen  she  places  the  divine  seal 
of  beauty  on  it  in  the  form  of  a  little  flower.     That  little 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  GIRLS.  107 

flower,  which  is  made  the  necessary  condition  of  the  pota- 
to's development,  was  placed  there  to  teach  us  that  there 
is  a  use  in  beauty  and  a  beauty  in  use.  Hence  we  would 
not  condemn  the  study  of  music  and  the  fine  arts.  The 
history  of  music  is  the  history  of  human  development.  It 
has  been  the  sensitive  gauge  that  has  marked  the  civiliza- 
tion of  every  age  and  nation.  The  music  that  charmed 
the  undeveloped  and  savage  ear  of  the  past  would  be  to  us 
but  rude  noise,  and  perchance  the  divinest  harmony  that 
wafts  our  spirit  starward  may  be  but  discord  compared 
with  the  symphonies  that  echo  down  the  aisles  of  coming 
ages.  Music  is  not  altogether  an  art;  it  is  a  science  as 
well,  and  viewed  in  its  highest  aspect  it  becomes  the 
grand  exponent  of  that  universal  and  divine  harmony 
which  every  properly  developed  soul  has  felt,  and  which 
gives  credence  to  that  sweetest  of  all  mythologies,  "  the 
music  of  the  spheres." 

Thus  while  we  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  the  science  of 
music  as  a  means  of  soul  development  and  heart  culture, 
yet  as  a  mere  outward  accomplishment  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  it  usurps  a  disproportionate  amount  of  time  and  en- 
ergy, and  we  Avould  unhesitatingly  condemn  that  method 
of  study  which  would  reduce  the  science  and  art  of  music 
to  a  mere  system  of  finger  and  vocal  gymnastics.  It  is  a 
fact  which  the  observation  of  almost  every  one  will  con- 
firm, that  the  present  method  of  musical  instruction  has  a 
direct  tendencv  to  take  the  soul  out  of  music,  and  leave  it, 


IO-N  OUR  B' 

the  poetry  of  Pope,  a  mere  shell  from  which  • 
creature  haa  departed       I  :   .1  •   :      :  seem 

to  have  forgo'  prime  •  musie,  vi/..  to  i 

eart  and  lift  the  sou!  exhibit   their  power*  to 

ui  as  \»  his,  an<l   they  expert   UH  to 

:  I'm-   th.-ir  >kill    in    execution;  if  we  do  not 
ribute  our  indifference  to  the  "  lack  (»f  eultu: 
••  is  too  short  and  its  duties  too  ;  •  us  for  a 

to  spend  years  in  acquiring  ;  :  "duction 

of  a  mere  sound,  and  one  in  which,  in  spite  of  her  cul 
1    by    the   ordinary    canary   J>ird.       V 
d  be  made  an  instrument  and  not  a  toy. 
All  this  may  he  true,  says  the  mother,  but  how  shall  I 
it.-    my  daughter'.'     It    is  easy    to  generalize  and  to 
;ng systems;  but  what  is  the  particular  method 
which  I  must  follow  in  order  to  avoid  thi 

In  place,  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  just  view 

ug  woman's  place  in  the  economy  of  society.     It  is 
useless  to  give  advice  in  regard  to  the  higher  edu 
woman  to  those  who  covertly  or  otherwise  regard  woman 
as  an   inferior  being,   whose  highest   and   most  legitimate 

is  to  swing  a  cradle  through  the  air  twelve  1. 

a  day.      \V.-   would  not  express  other  than  the   tenderest 

nente  concerning  the  divine  mission  of  motherhood. 

has  the   reader  ever  asked   himself  what  it  is  that 

makes   motherhood   so  divine  ?     Is  it  not,  after  all,  that 

1 1    lifts    woman    above    motherhood,    that   can    make 


EDUCATION  OF   OUR  GIRLS.  109 

motherhood  divine?  We  are  pained  when  an  eminent 
writer  gives  weight  to  expressions  like  the  following:  " The 
great  vocation  of  woman  is  wifehood  and  motherhood." 
Would  the  author  object  to  a  slight  change  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  phraseology  so  as  to  make  the  expression  appli- 
cable to  man  ?  Would  those  who  think  that  the  quoted 
words  express  a  fine  thought  be  offended  with  the  follow- 
ing? The  great  vocation  of  man  is  husbandhood  and 
fatherhood?  The  moment  we  exalt  motherhood  to  the 
rank  of  a  prime  object,  that  moment  does  it  descend  to 
the  level  of  the  function  involved,  and  the  divine  mother 
becomes  simply  a  mammal  of  the  genus  "  homo." 

All  there  is  of  divinity  in  motherhood  is  derived  from 
the  divinity  of  womanhood.  Why  does  the  artist  always 
paint  that  kind  of  motherhood  which  suggests  to  our 
minds  the  condescension  of  the  divine  to  the  human  ?  It  is 
not  the  motherhood,  but  the  condescension  to  motherhood, 
that  makes  it  divine  and  beautiful.  Whatever  heightens 
and  glorifies  woman's  nature  then  renders  more  beautiful 
and  more  divine  the  mission  of  motherhood.  It  is  the 
seminary  that  sanctifies  the  nursery. 

We  hope  the  world  has  heard  the  last  of  that  sickly 
sentiment  concerning  "  woman's  sphere,"  "  The  hand  that 
rocks  the  cradle  rules  the  world,"  etc.  If  that  hand  were 
permitted  to  take  hold  of  the  world  a  little  more  directly, 
it  would  not  at  all  interfere  with  its  ability  to  rock  the 
cradle.  The  female  robin  must  feed  and  care  for  its 


110 

•....•    •.  each  morning  to  sing  its  little 

ti  of  praise  u: 

may  rock  the  cradle  it  :  n-1  time 

to  gl  r  God  with  h  .»«ct. 

We  would  see  t  •  sister  an-i  !•:  ••!.••:  h;md  in 

v   school;  we    would  &e 
promoted   to   the   grammar  school ;  we   would   see  • 

_:   on    through   the    course   all    i; 
there   is  any  radical   difference  in  their  mental 

••  would  see  them  graduate  from  the  high  school 

together,   and   together   enter   the   university,   and    here 

igh  four  years  of  intellectual   conlli  >uld  see 

them  stand  side  by  side  in  that  fiercely  contested  arena, 

and  with  tongue  and  pen  and   brain   comp<  those 

*  whose  winning  foreshadows  life's  success.     \V 
see  t!  graduating  exercises,  fearlessly  giv- 

•  >rld  a  specimen  of  their  thought  and   elo- 

"  Mid  tba  sweet  inspiration  of  mode  and  flowers." 

Nor   would    we   see   tln-m    part    h.-re  :  but    with    brave' 
hearts  en  -ame  profession.     W»-  >ee  no  good  reason 

why  women  should  not  serve  their  kind  a.s  lawyers,  doc- 
tore,  and  ministers.     It   i^  tin.-   tin-re  are  object! 
hinderances  incidental  to  their  sex,  but  these  we  believe 
are  fully  counterbalance*  1  M  qualifications  in  which 

they  must  be  acknowledged  even  superior. 

In  medicin  .-t  < Lining  to  be  the  opinion  of  the 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  GIRLS.  Ill 

world  that  woman,  whatever  may  be  her  incidental  disabili- 
ties, is  by  nature  even  better  endowed  than  man  with 
some  of  the  peculiarities  of  talent  that  prophesy  success. 
One  of  these  peculiarities  is  that  intuitive  insight  which, 
when  supplemented  by  scientific  knowledge,  leaps  to  right 
conclusions  with  the  certainty  of  an  instinct.  It  is  in 
moments  of  emergency  that  woman's  mind  betrays  its 
peculiar  fitness  for  the  medical  profession.  All  must 
admit  that  she  is  the  natural  nurse,  and  it  is  almost  an 
adage  among  physicians  that  "  as  much  depends  upon  the 
nursing  as  upon  medical  skill."  We  would  not,  of  course, 
make  this  claim  for  woman  with  reference  to  all  profes- 
sions. It  is  not  the  general  superiority  of  woman  that  we 
seek  to  prove,  but  simply  that  for  the  profession  of  medi- 
cine, at  least,  c'^e  has  some  special  qualifications. 

But  we  would  not  deny  that  she  may  with  equal  pro- 
priety enter  almost  any  of  the  other  professions,  and  in 
this  we  are  confident  that  we  only  anticipate  the  tide  of 
public  sentiment.  How  eminently  do  her  sincerity,  moral- 
ity and  spiritual  mindedness  fit  her  to  point  the  world  to 
nobler  endeavors  and  higher  ideals. 

Many  of  the  arguments  which  prove  her  fitness  to  min- 
ister as  a  physician  to  the  diseased  bodies  of  mankind  also 
go  to  prove  her  special  fitness  to  minister  as  a  moral  physi- 
cian to  their  diseased  souls. 

Wny  then  should  our  talented  and  ambitious  girls  la- 
ment that  there  is  no  field  open  for  them.  There  are  very 


few  profession 

also  enter  if  <•  county 

to  step  asid.  .  the 

band    of   society    has    marked    <>ut   t  I'.ut   while 

m  possesses  so  man \  the 

profi  here  art>  :e  adapt* 

a  professional    life,  and   the    sun  be  said  of 

•  •sMonal  ii   cannot    meet  uire- 

ments  of  the  great  mass  «  r  of  boy^.     ••  1  In- 

greatest  good   to   the  gi  'lumber"    should  b« 

\\"'    must  go,  tl  :u-   little   larm-lmusc- 

the  little  cottage  beneath  the  hill.  Not  that  the  : 
house  and  the  cottage  are  the  abodes  of  intellectual  v 
ness.  On  the  conti  \vs  that  the  w< 

great  minds,  like  wheat,  potatoes  and  aj  lally 

pnxli:  not   be  denied   that   the  mass 

of  the  people,  those  to  v>  h  to  speak,  are 

bolized  by  the  farm-house  and  the  cottage. 

What.  thru,  shall   cnnstitut'  ;icati<m   of   : 

mon  girl  who   is  destitute   of  the  ambition  and,  perhaps, 

.  that    h- 

.Id  be  as  varied  and  perfect  as  possible.     If  f 
other  reason  to  enable  her  properly  to  educate  and  rear 
her  own  children.     Whatever  grand  truths  are  planted   in 
the  mother's  mind  take  root  t  genera1 

there  grow,  blossom,  and  shed  their  perfume  on  the  world. 


THE  FIRST  LESSON. 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  GIRLS.  11:} 

The  child  receives  the  mother's  very  thought  by  intuition. 
If  the  mother's  mind  is  weak  and  narrow  in  its  range,  the 
child  is  affected  by  this  fact  long  before  it  finds  any  mean- 
ing in  the  mother's  words.  But  if  the  mother's  mind  is 
cultured  and  refined  by  study  until  her  thoughts  are  grand 
and  far-reaching,  the  child's  soul  will  grow  and  expand 
under  the  mesmeric  influence  of  these  thoughts,  as  the 
plant  grows  under  the  influence  of  the  sun. 

Again,  education,  or  the  refinement  and  organic  im- 
provement resulting  from  education,  is  transmitted  from 
mother  to  child.  Who  cannot  tell  by  the  looks  of  a  little 
boy  whether  his  mother  was  educated  or  not  ?  The  child 
of  the  educated  mother  will  have  a  finer  grained  organism  ; 
he  will  be  handsomer,  will  have  more  regular  features  than 
the  child  of  the  ignorant  parent.  As  a  rule  he  will  ac- 
quire the  use  of  language  at  an  earlier  period.  He  will 
also  generally  be  found  more  open  and  frank  in  his  man- 
ner, and  more  susceptible  to  moral  and  spiritual  influ- 
ences. 

How  grand  and  comprehensive,  then,  becomes  the  theme 
of  woman's  education.  To  the  parent  no  question  can  be 
more  important  than  how  shall  I  educate  my  daughter? 
If  it  is  impossible  to  educate  both  let  the  son  go  unedu- 
cated, and  educate  the  daughter.  The  importance  of  the 
son's  education  may  be,  indeed,  beyond  estimation  ;  yet 
that  of  the  daughter  is  even  more  important. 

Many  parents  believe  that  the  virtue  of  their  daughters 


l>e  more  secure  if  tl  in  in  £• 

but  ; 

ike.     It 

.niiy  \\hirh  par. 
the  great  cities  at  midnight,  in 

Few  are  nut;  vith- 

d.mgers  and  temptations  of  city  li: 
greater  than  those  of  the  coin 

There  can  be  but  one  explanation  of  this  fact. 
perior  ed  1   facilities  of  the  <  :<J  a  sail 

ami   rest  milling  influence  in  the  form  of  mental  cul 

.    than    ;  girl, 

hence  she  has  a  stronger  •  li.u.u  ter. 

Both  i:  .  for  innocence  may  live  con, 

ably  with  ignorance,  but  virtue  and  ignorance  long 

endure  each  other's  socie;  oung  ki 

but   it  has  but  little  character;    and  we  could  not  call  it 
rly    virtuous.      There    are    thousands   of   human 
rhoM  virtue  consists  only  in   the  innocence  of  ig- 
nora: 

"  Pnlpy  souls 
That  show  a  dimple  (or  each  touch  of  sin." 

Let  every  mother  and  father  remember  that  there  i 
virtue  in  ignorance,  even  ignorance  of  MIL     If  you  do  not 
•  r  boy  an  opportunity  to  will 

cease  to  ha\  -s.     So  there  can  be  no  virtue 

if  you  do  not  give  your  dar 
;<•>  use  her  virtue  in  the  ; 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  GIRLS.  115 

tion,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  she  will  soon  cease  to  have  any 
virtue. 

A  certain  woman  had  a  choice  plum  tree,  the  fruit  of 
which  she  was  anxious  should  ripen.  The  birds  had  car- 
ried away  all  but  one,  and  over  this  she  bound  a  cloth.  It 
was  safe  from  the  birds,  but  while  she  shut  it  from  them, 
she  shut  it  also  from  the  sunshine  and  the  storms  which 
alone  could  ripen  it,  and  it  withered  away  and  fell. 

The  mother  should  teach  her  daughter  above  all  things 
to  know  herself. 

The  man  was  unwise,  who,  fearing  that  his  bird-dog 
would  acquire  the  habit  of  killing  barn  fowl,  shut  him  up 
during  his  puppy-hood  and  secluded  from  his  sight  every 
kind  of  bird.  When  he  released  him  to  test  the  merits  of 
his  system  of  education,  the  dog  rushed  at  the  fowls  and 
killed  them  all  before  his  master  could  call  him  off. 

Would  he  not  have  acted  more  wisely  had  he  taught  the 
young  dog  to  discriminate  between  barn-fowl  and  wild- 
fowl ?  As  it  was  he  did  not  educate  him,  but  attempted  to 
suppress  an  inborn  instinct. 

Equally  unwise  is  the  mother  who  keeps,  or  tries  to  keep, 
her  daughter  in  ignorance  concerning  those  things  which 
she  has  a  divinely  given  righl  to  know.  Let  her  direct  her 
daughter's  intuitions  as  nature  unfolds  them,  but  never 
attempt  to  suppress  them,  for  sooner  or  later  there  must 
come  a  revelation. 

Whatever  may  be  true  concerning  the  question  of  wo- 


,  however,  '.  l»v 

.11  in- 

•iiat   WO!:. 
.      Nnr   «; 

of   making    \vi:  md    im>: . 

of  life. 

riding  t! 

lated  '.vhat  different  ol 

'.i  man  ]' 

.I  inetli 

•  could  l>e  shown  that  men  and  won 
engage  iu  the  cul 

to  the  more  ;i->tlietic 

f  the  hi  .:i  to  the  rougher  airi 

•n.     If  a  flower  garden  or  nursery  \\  in  the 

it  of  rough  stubble,  none  .:  it  would  be 

natural  for  the  man  to  m  \hile  the  woman 

d  tend  the  in  its  midst.     This  would  be  true 

iiuwn  that  woman  should  help  to  till 

So  if  it  sh-iuld  be  shown   that  woman   1. 
to  j».;  probK- 


EDUCATION  OF  OL'R  (URLS.  117 

are  not  by  any  means  prepared  to  deny,  it  would  still  be 
true  that  it  is  her  most  natural  function  to  have  particular 
charge  of  the  little  nursery,  home,  in  tne  midst  of  the  rough 
Ytubble  of  human  society. 

Woman's  education,  then,  is  necessarily  very  imperfect, 
unless  it  be  largely  in  the  line  of  that  which  best  becomes 
her  nature. 

She  should  have,  emphatically,  a  home  education,  and 
this  means  something  more  than  a  knowledge  of  the  dust- 
pan and  broom. 

It  means  something  more  than  a  mere  knowledge  of  the 
daily  routine  of  housekeeping,  in  the  popular  sense  of  that 
word.  Woman  holds  in  her  hands  the  physical  health  of 
the  world.  Three  times  each  day  our  lives  and  health  are  at 
ihe  mercy  and  practical  judgment  of  woman.  Nay,  more, 
Tor  the  world's  character  is  largely  what  its  food  makes  it. 
Indirectly,  then,  she  exerts  a  modifying  influence  over 
our  loves  and  hates,  hopes  and  fears,  joys  and  sorrows. 

Whoever  controls  a  being's  stomach  controls  that  being's 
destiny.  What,  then,  can  be  more  important  than  that 
girls  should  be  educated  in  cookery  and  the  related  sci- 
ences, chemistry  and  hygiene?  This,  then,  is  what  we 
mean  by  a  home  education  for  girls,  that  they  should  be 
taught  both  through  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  moth- 
ers, and  also  through  the  medium  of  books,  how  to  engage 
in  the  noble  occupation  of  housewife  with  the  best  advan- 
tage to  mankind. 


118 

h  an  education  cannot  be  obtained  solely  from  prac- 
.11  the  kitchen.     The  whole  mind  must  be  « 

iiiui  disciplined  by  a  study  of  nature  and  IKT  l.i\v>. 
m  can  possibly  fulfill,  in  the  best  mann- 

M  housewife  without  a  good  general  education. 

"  Thro*  years  she  grew  in  sun  and  shower; 
Then  nature  said,  "  A  lovelier  flower 
On  earth  waa  ncrer  town; 
This  child  I  to  myself  will  take; 
She  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will  make 
A  lady  of  my  own. 

"  Myself  will  to  my  darling  be 
Both  law  ami  impulse;  and  with  me 
The  girl,  in  rock  and  plain, 
In  earth  and  heaven,  in  glade  and  bower, 
Shall  feel  an  overseeing  power 
To  kindle  or  restrain. 

"  She  shall  be  sportive  as  the  fawn 
That  wild  with  glee  across  the  lawn 
Or  np  the  mountain  springs; 
And  hers  shall  be  the  breathing  balm, 
And  hen  the  silence  and  the  calm, 
Of  mate  insensate  things. 

•'  The  floating  clouds  their  state  shall  land 
To  her;  for  her  the  willow  bend; 
Nor  shall  she  fall  to  see 
E'en  in  the  motions  of  the  storm 
Grace  that  shall  mold  the  maiden's  form 
By  silent  sympathy. 

"  The  stars  of  midnight  shall  be  dear 
To  her;  and  she  shall  lean  her  ear 
In  many  a  secret  place, 
Where  rivnlets  dance  their  wayward  round, 
And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 
Shall  pass  into  her  face." 


EDUCATION   OF  OUR   BOYS. 


N  education   does  not  necessarily  mean  the 
discipline  of  a  college  course.     In  the  present 
condition  of  society,  that  advantage  is,  as  a 
matter  of  necessity,   reserved  for   compara- 
^  tively  few.     In  its  true  significance  educa- 
tion means  something  more  than  the  ability 
to    unravel  the  involved  constructions   of 
a  dead  language ;    something  more  than  a 
proficiency  in  mathematics  and  the  physical 
sciences ;    something  more,  even,  than  can 
be  reaped  from  the  most  laborious  toil  of 
the  human  intellect.     It  is  a  drawing  out, 
a  developing   and  strengthening  of  every 
element,  every  faculty,  every  power  of  body, 
mind  and  spirit.     It  is  such  a  condition  of 
the  whole  being,  resulting  from  a  constant 
refinement,  that   the  several  powers  shall 

observe  the  highest  economy  in  their  sep- 

Xlf 

J»  arate  spheres,  while  the  power  of   co-ordi- 

W  nated  action  shall  be  rendered  more  perfect. 

One  may  so  cultivate  and  strengthen  the  muscles  of  his 

little  finger  that  he  may  be  able  to  support  with  it  twice 


t 


'it ;  whiM  tlM  Duun   muscles  of  his  body  are  so 

able  to  lift  half  : 

- 

ility  till   lit-  bee" 
•r  of   the   world's  admiration,  it'   such  were  pos- 

if  his 

liable,  i;  :  a  glutt' 

he  is  stubborn,  if  he  is  niiconscienti. 

piritually  blind,  if  he  i>  .  if  he  i- 

i   human  want  and  Bl 
An  "ii   on    this  broad  basis  should  be 

Y  human  being. 

We  would  not  by  any  means  be  understood  as  ui 
valuing  the  education  of  the  intellect.     The  importai; 
.tion  of  a  pc-  ominensurate  with  t! 

ilic  power  itself,  ai  -ily  no  j.ower  o; 

more  importanco  than   i  .A 

luoation  is  within  the  reach  of  « 
possesses  the  ambition  for  it,  even 

•  'ither  friends  nor  money.     T 
students  in  this  country  who  ar. 
through  college  by  t:  .  energy  and  labor.     In 

of  our  colleges,  a  young  man  of  activity  a 

•  luring  the  i  enougl: 

during  the  term.     So  that  he   who  tl  r    kno\\! 

has  no  legitimate  excuse  if  he  does  not  avail  hii: 
_:e  education.     None  should  ;.  bring  < 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  BOYS.  121 

dence  than  the  illustrious  triumphs  of  a  Garfield.  There 
never  yet  was  occupation  so  low,  nor  obstacle  so  broad  and 
high  as  to  defeat  the  resolve  of  a  human  soul.  No  fierce 
monster  of  opposition  ever  reared  its  hydra  head  in  the 
path  of  a  human  endeavor, 

That  would  not  shrink  and  cower 
Before  the  dauntless  power 
Of  a  fearless  human  will. 

There  are  those  who  are  conscious  that  they  were  richly 
endowed  by  nature  with  noble  gifts,  but  who  have  failed 
in  life  through  their  own  indolence.  It  is  customary  for 
these  to  comfort  themselves  in  their  sad  retrospection  by 
repeating  these  melancholy  lines  : — 

"  Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear; 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." 

Do  those  lines  prove  that  truth  is  not  an  essential  ele- 
ment of  poetry  ?  No,  for  they  are  believed  and  felt  to  be 
true  by  mistaken  souls,  and  in  that  way  they  perform  the 
function  of  truth.  They  convey,  or  rather  seem  to  convey, 
a  solemn  truth  to  those  who  have  unwittingly  surrendered 
life's  argument  to  the  merciless  opponent  of  circumstances 
by  the  unwise  concession  of  their  own  weakness. 

But  let  us  put  this  doctrine  to  the  practical  test.  We 
have  said  that  an  education  does  not  necessarily  mean  the 
discipline  of  a  college  course.  Indeed,  all  are  not  so  con- 
stituted that  a  college  education  would  bring  them  the 


N    r    \\      ,'.  1     v.  •     1 

al  as  to  <  ices  ma-  pur- 

re  of 

:ty  is  n..:  '-orao. 

well  educate  .'ess  who 

have  become  great  and  useful  by  the  lig! 

have  learned  the  science  of  mathematics  with  ;i 
for  a  .:id  the  ocean  beach  for  a  slate.     Bir 

we  meet  foot  boy  in  :  ioking  r. 

;  <>f  advice  have  we  for  him?     He  wil'. 

about  the  grand  possibilities  which   ' 
glorious  republic  offers  to  the  poorest  and  the  ;  he 

will  listen   to  the   story   of  those   great  souls  who  have 
climbed   to  glory  over  fence  rails  and  • 

have  finished  he  wil  :s  with   ' 

"What  shall  I  do  and  how  shall   I  b<  . 
we  can  answer  these  questions.     As  the 
the  desired  result,  he  can  pick  up  a  rag,  just  as  he 

wont  to  do,  and  examine  it,  not  a-  \\ith 

the   simple  purpose  of  determining  whether  he  shall  j  ut 
it  into   one   or  the  other   of  two   baskets:    but 
make  it  the  text-book  with  which  to  begin  an  e<: 

hose  older  and  wiser  than  himself  what 
made  of  and  how  it  is  made.     They  will  point  him  t< 

:ider.  where,  if  he  tells  his  pur 
'"ii    and   learn   something  of  the  m. 
j  rim  ij.lrv  involved  in  the  manufacture  of  the  rng.     If  he 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  BOYS.  123 

continues  to  make  inquiries  until  he  can  trace  a  piece  of 
cotton  through  all  its  transformations,  till  it  comes  out  a 
piece  of  fine  bleached  cotton,  he  has  surely  begun  an  edu- 
cation in  earnest.  He  can  save  a  penny  a  day  for  a  few 
days  and  buy  a  primer,  and  with  that  primer  under  his  arm 
he  may  politely  accost  any  lady  or  gentleman  with  these 
words,  "  I  am  determined  to  make  the  most  of  myself.  I 
want  to  learn  to  read.  I  have  bought  a  little  book.  Can 
you  give  me  any  advice  or  help  ?  "  There  is  not  a  man  or 
woman  in  all  that  great  city  with  a  heart  so  hard  as  not  to 
be  melted  to  sympathy  by  that  appeal.  He  would  be 
astonished  at  the  amount  of  love  and  sympathy  and  philan- 
thropy in  the  world  which  he  before  had  considered  so  cold 
and  heartless. 

Young  man;  boot-black;  rag-picker;  obscure  farmer 
boy;  or  dweller  in  the  dingy  haunts  of  the  "city;  remem- 
ber that  Freedom's  goddess  holds  over  your  head  a  crown. 
She  never  crowns  a  royal  idiot ;  she  scorns  fine  clothes  and 
gloved  hands,  and  she  never  puts  that  crown  on  any  but 
a  sweaty  brow. 

From  every  lowly  cottage  roof, 

However  poor  and  brown, 
From  every  dusty  hovel,  points 

A  hand  at  glory's  crown. 

Although  it  is  true  that  men  can  be  good  farmers 
or  mechanics  without  being  able  to  read  or  write,  yet 
we  believe  that  the  greatest  possible  number  of  these 
classes  should  be  liberally  educated.  We  often  hear  it 


It] 

ami  an    ••<!:;  Ifl     to 

:u;trk   imply:  if  he  nr 

.  S.-ioll     ti  :!ld    llH'IH-y    tlllls 

\Y.    ':. .-.•,.•    DO        ;    I'.tthy  or    ;  with    Q 

the   bnr 

1          a  greater  sin   to   take   his  life  than  I 
brut*  -   inure  life  to  t. 

(iod-like  and  in<  rful. 

lueatioii    means    simply    making    those-    : 
:ful  and  G. id-like,  and  iiothing  mOTO.      Ii  edn- 

eatnl  man  is  nune  a  man  than  an  uneducated  one.      It   in- 

•hf  humanity  <«f  man  and  adds  to  our  very  1 
So  that  if  one  is  to  spend  his  life  in  idlei.  I  the 

rloiids.  it   is  a  duty  he  owes  to  himself,  to  the  uni\ 

•>].  t<>  make  the  most  of  himself  by  acquiring  a  1; 
edneatiiui. 

Knowledge,    like    virtue,    should    be    an    end    in    i< 
Think  of  a  mother   teaching   her   children   to   be   virtuous 
ccts   of    financial    success   would    be 
We    should    pity    the    moral    weakness    of   that 
mother.     We  all  instinctively  recognize  virtue  as  a 

id  in  itself.      It  i<  a  part  of  that  (tod-like 
nature  of  which  .  part  of  our  very  in. 

tality.     S  Ige,    Way  then  should  we  tall:  il 

•  •    and    education    simply   as   means   to  facilitate 


EDUCATION  OF  OUR  BOYS.  125 

the  accumulation  of  dollars  and  cents?  Let  no  mother 
teach  her  boy  such  sophistry. 

The  capacity  of  the  soul  for  enjoyment  is  just  propor- 
tionate to  its  interior  development.  Knowledge  is  to  the 
mind  what  health  is  to  the  body,  it  makes  more  of  us. 

Education  is  the  handmaid  of  religion.  The  statistics 
of  every  community  will  show  that  criminals  are  taken 
from  the  ranks  of  the  ignorant.  If  the  best  and  highest 
minds  do  not  in  some  way  associate  knowledge  and  relig- 
ion, why  are  all  our  colleges  and  seminaries  under  the  di- 
rect supervision  of  the  Christian  church  ?  Education  has 
transformed  the  savage  into  the  Christian.  The  wide  gulf 
that  stretches  between  the  beastly  cannibal  and  the  God- 
like Christian  man  has  been  bridged  by  the  invisible  cables 
of  education,  and  away  into  the  infinitely  potential  fu- 
ture shall  stretch  this  golden  bridge,  till  the  farther  end 
shall  rest  upon  the  massive  masonry  of  the  eternal. 

Education  was  divinely  instituted.  Nature  is  the  school 
mistress  whom  God  employs  to  educate  his  children. 
This  sweet  and  patient  teacher  knows  how  to  win  our 
hearts  so  that  study  becomes  a  pleasure.  Everywhere  she 
has  placed  before  our  eyes  an  open  text  book  with  such 
fascinating  pictures  that  we  cannot  help  reading  the  de- 
scription of  them.  She  found  us  with  the  beasts.  Pa- 
tiently she  has  conducted  us  through  the  primary  school 
of  the  savage  and  barbarian,  through  the  grammar  school 
of  war  and  bloodshed,  till  we  have  entered  with  her  the 


•ol  of  mode;  will   load    i 

uinj.l 

In  her  laboratory  wi 

;il  lead  us  proudly  up 

anil  presi-nt  us  t»>  •  r.  at  whose  :,ide  wi- 

sit    and   niulrr    \\ln-M'    tuition  wt-  shall   turn  our  eyes 
Ward  ami  r   shall   study   tin:   inlini: 

iniiiiites. 

"  The  heights  by  preat  men  reached  and  kept 

Were  not  attained  by  Hudden  (light; 

But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night." 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  HOME. 


OME  one  has  said  that  "to  thoroughly  know 
one  book  is  to  have  a  key  to  all  libraries." 

The  vast  battalion  of  books  that  fill  the 
shelves  of  our  great  libraries  is  almost  ap- 
palling to  behold,  alcove  upon  alcove  piled 
into  the  very  domes  of  colossal  buildings. 
Think  of  what  they  contain :  the  crystallized 
thought  and  wisdom  of  the  centuries,  and  yet 
where  shall  we  begin  to  make  an  analysis  of  that  wisdom. 
We  may  call  for  a  given  book,  but  we  find  that  book  laps 
over  on  both  sides  of  its  subject. 

Figuratively  speaking,  it  leaned  for  support  both  ways 
upon  its  shelf.  One  subject  is  dependent  upon  another  so 
that  we  cannot  thoroughly  know  a  single  book  in  all  that 
great  library  without  knowing  all.  The  classification  may 
be  admirable,  yet  it  is  after  all  but  the  classification  of  the 
dependent  parts  of  a  sublime  and  incomprehensible  whole. 
How  despair  seizes  the  lover  of  wisdom,  how  hopeless  seems 
his  task,  when  he  gazes  upon  those  awful  records  of  human 
thought.  His  feelings  may  be  defined  as  those  of  mental 
strangulation.  As  we  sit  beneath  the  great  dome  and 
watch  the  men  and  women,  with  noiseless  footsteps  and 


' 

• 

r  to  spea! 
tli;tt  is  yet  unwri; 

•e,   thru,   we   cannot    n>mpa>s    tlie   ran;.: 
thought,  since  we  must  be  (.•> 
an  ir.  In,  tin-   problem  for  us  to  solve 

viz.,  \vi  !1    \ve  break  th;. 

sliall  we  :  .      >  is  one  of  the  probh 

age   imposes,   and,    perhaps,   tin  : 

!i  parents  are  called  upon  to  solve.     A.-> 
chiri!  iml.     I 

that  the  infant  mind  ha.-  itive  mental   pi. 

id  surely  should    not.  be  ei 
they  may  and  should  be  guided,  and  tin 
produchi-  '  excrescent  The 

books  of  a  family,  not  less  than  ti 
shaj>e  the  de> 

howt-  regret  to  say 

'.bition   in  t! 
of  the  (]-.• 

Barents  ;ir.'  ignorant,  bookfl   thai   iw   read  onlj   bj    lump- 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  HOME.  129 

light,  while  the  parents  suppose  that  no  lights  are  in  the 
house.  Parents !  if  you  knew  the  books  that,  while 
you  are  sleeping  at  midnight,  your  children  are  reading  by 
that  dim  light  which  casts  its  glimmer  into  the  street,  you 
would  blush  with  shame. 

Books  are  advertised  in  our  daily  newspapers  under  the 
veil  of  pathological  philanthropy,  to  which  the  advertiser 
dares  not  put  his  name.  Boys  are  directed  to  send  so 
many  postage  stamps  to  a  post-office  box,  to  which  there 
are  many  keys.  A  hint  to  the  wise  is  all  that  is  necessary. 
We  will  not  enlarge  upon  this  class  of  literature  which 
disgraces  the  civilization  of  our  age.  But,  like  the  "  pesti- 
lence that  walketh  in  darkness,"  none  knows  or  feels  it  till 
it  breathes  its  fatal  breath  into  his  face.  This  hellish  lit- 
erature lies  piled  mountain  high  in  the  dark  and  subter- 
raneous caverns  of  society,  and  under  the  added  gloom  of 
midnight  it  is  read  by  the  baleful  torches  of  lust.  Our 
public  schools  are  flooded  with  books  that  the  teacher 
never  sees.  They  constitute  the  text  books  from  which 
the  lessons  are  learned  and  recited  without  the  aid  of  a 
tutor.  Perhaps  it  is  impossible  to  wholly  eradicate  this 
social  evil.  No  parent  is  sure  that  his  child  has  not  already 
been  contaminated.  But  parental  vigilance  is  the  only 
remedy  that  falls  within  the  province  of  this  work. 

We  have  said  enough  concerning  the  books  that  should 
not  be  read.  We  come  now  to  a  more  difficult  task,  viz., 
to  determine  what  books  should  be  read. 

8 


Id  be  read  by  each  and 
•  •ver,  ha\ 

litli    in   the   wi>< 
:.i»tea  and  inborn   incnt.il 

ourse  is 

iturc   of  our  p;. 
y  the  o!  j 

hiM  and  student  by  forcing  all  casts  of  mind  i: 
:non  mold,  is  strong  enough  alnady  without  helping  on 
its  bad  effects  by  recommending  the  same  course  <•; 
for  all.     We  do  nut   mean   by  this,  of 
.  teacher,  and  guardian  >hould  n 

their  charge  with  reference  to  the  selection  <>f  books.     \\'« 
do  not  deny  tin-  \\isdoin  of  marking  out  a  co 
ing,  if  it  be  done  with  express  reference  to  th 
peculiarities   of  those   for  whom   it    :  i    by 

some  one  who  is  thoroughly  conversant  \\ith  those   \<- 
iarities. 

dy  the  minds  of  their  children. 
:t  should  know  enough  of  the  general   prin 

:ble  him  to  i: 
lectual  and  n.  I'ntil  he  does,  he  si 

re  he  attempts  to  pilot  a  human  mind  up  the 
peri'  :.ds  of  childhood  and  youth. 

ild  is  gr 
•ed  in  shells,  fossils,  beei  all  those  things  that 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  HOME.  131 

pertain  to  zoological  science,  and  that  when  his  eye  for  the 
first  time  falls  on  a  book  devoted  to  this  science,  he  is  de- 
lighted beyond  measure.  Could  there  be  anything  more 
unjust  and  foolish  than  for  that  parent  to  withhold  all  such 
books  from  his  child  and  to  mark  out  a  course  of  reading 
which  should  consist  largely  of  psychological  works,  and 
books  in  which  he  is  not  at  all  interested,  and  compel  him  to 
toil  through  them.  It  is  not,  however,  impossible  that  the 
child  may  possess  a  taste  for  both  classes  of  books  which 
we  have  mentioned,  but  if  he  has  not  already  evinced  a 
taste  for  both,  it  is  surely  the  duty  of  the  parent  to  ascer- 
tain the  facts  of  the  case  before  he  compels  him  to  read 
those  books  for  which  he  has  evinced  no  taste.  If  the  boy 
is  continually  disposed  to  marshal  his  little  playmates  and 
march  them  around  the  house  to  the  music  of  a  tin  pan,  he 
will  be  a  good  candidate  for  West  Point,  and  will  proba- 
bly be  found  to  possess  a  latent  love  of  history,  and  may 
perhaps  become  an  historian.  If  he  is  disposed  to  spend 
much  of  his  time  in  the  work-shop  making  his  own  toys,  he 
will  delight  in  natural  philosophy  and  in  the  biographies  of 
great  inventors.  Parents  should  be  able  to  interpret  these 
outward  indications  of  innate  talent,  and,  regarding  them  as 
the  cries  of  a  hungry  mind,  should  be  quick  to  furnish  the 
proper  food.  If  the  boy  who  is  inclined  to  invent  and  to 
use  tools,  be  compelled  by  his  parents  to  study  history  most 
of  the  time,  instead  of  natural  philosophy,  he  will  very 
likely  conceive  a  general  dislike  for  all  kinds  of  reading. 


1.12  ol '  ' 

But  if  In  1»  i ose  branches 

_'  the  lii-  -,  he  wi: 

unlv  a  taste   ' 

mind 

d  be  first  developed   in   tin-   line  in  which   : 
ices  au  unmistakable 

This  secures  a  stability  of  purpose  and  au  incli . 
that  no  after  course  or  promiscuous  reading 
The  mind  may  then  be  brought   : 

supplementary  reading.     Nor  will  this  be  difiieuh,  but  on 
the  conti  y  natural,  since  it  will  h  :ired 

a  taste  for  reading. 

Every  book  in  the  great  library  is  the  record  of  some 
man's  individuality,  and  when  you  have  read  the  book 
have  read  the  man.     Books  differ  as  men  differ. 

associate  with  a  hundred  different  people  of  that 
acter  which  one  meets  every  day  upon  the  street. 
be  conscious  of  the  modifying  influence  which  ti 
over  him.     But  he  may  afterwanl  ;dividual 

in  whose  silent  presence  he  will  feel  the  tumultuous  thrill 
of  a  molding  influence.     The  meeting  of  such  \<- 

is  in  one's  life,  and  he  is  never  the  same  after 
So  with  ho.-k>.     We  may  read  alcove  after  alcove  of  the 
books    that    make   up   the  body   of   a  public  lib: 

1  that  we  have  r«  rary 

that  adorns  the  great  city  is  aim*  'iclar 

has  carried  home  an  armful  of  1 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  HOME.  133 

of  many  books  there  is  no  end."  But  of  the  writing  of 
great  books  there  has  hardly  been  a  beginning. 

If  one  wishes  to  cultivate  his  social  nature  and  improve 
himself  generally  by  mingling  in  society,  he  cannot  do  it 
to  the  best  advantage  by  going  to  the  circus  or  the  theater. 
All  will  admit  that  the  most  effectual  way  is  to  select  a 
few  choice  associates  better  than  himself. 

Now  since  a  library  is  but  a  proxy  for  society,  the  same 
rule  holds  good  in  respect  to  it.  Read  the  few  great  books ; 
books  that  work  revolutions  in  our  natures,  and  burn  them- 
selves into  our  memory  and  become  a  part  of  ourselves. 

We  do  not  mean  that  every  child  should  read  Plato,  for 
Plato  would  be  the  same  as  no  book  at  all  to  a  child. 
"Robinson  Crusoe"  and  the  "Arabian  Nights"  are  great  and 
revolutionary  books  from  a  child's  standpoint,  and  when 
he  has  grown  stronger,  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  and  "Paul  and 
Virginia  "  are  also  great  and  revolutionary.  A  few  such 
books  await  him  at  every  stage  of  his  development,  so  that 
no  one  need  read  any  but  the  great  and  good  books.  We 
have  used  the  word  few  with  reference  to  good  books  in  a 
relative  rather  than  an  absolute  sense.  Of  course  there 
are  in  all  libraries  very  many  good  and  great  books,  but 
when  compared  with  the  mass  they  are  certainly  few. 

But  how  shall  you  determine  whether  a  given  book  be 
worth  reading  or  not  ?  By  what  means  are  you  to  be  cer- 
tain that  you  have  selected  one  of  those  few?  By  the 
testimony  of  your  own  soul.  If  the  book  throws  your 


whole  b< 

.   I 
shadows  upon   the  star-lit 

h.m-  allo\\rd   those  £i-.md   v. 
. 

:o  looking  fur,  and  i: 
print  of  gen  i 

All  books,  whether  great  or  small,  are  but 
-'.ate  that  one  gn  -.  Inch  lii-s  open  1" 

the   star-and-ilo\\i  i-uiit  book  of  Nature.     'I 
many  imperfect  translations  and  poor  conin. 

he  original  without  : 
hit  ion  or  con 

"  Books  are  not  seldom  talismans  and  spells, 
By  which  the  magic  art  of  shrewder  wits 

•  nn  unthinking  multitude  enthralled. 
Some  to  the  fascination  of  a  name 
Surrender  judgment,  lit  MM]  winked.    Some  the  style 
Infatuates,  and  through  labyrinths  and  wilds 
Of  errur  leads  them,  by  a  tune  entranced. 

sloth  seduces  more,  too  weak  to  bear 
The  insupportable  fatigue  of  tl. 
And  swallowing,  therefor-  mse  or  choice, 

The  total  grin  unsifted,  husks  and  all. 
But  trees  and  rivulets,  whose  rapid  course 
Defies  the  check  of  winter,  haunts  of  deer, 
And  sheep-walks  populous  with  bleating  lambs, 
And  lanes  in  whkh  the  primrose  ere  her  time 
Peep*  through  the  moss  that  clothes  the  hawthorn  root, 
Deceive  no  student.    Wisdom  there  and  Truth, 
Not  shy,  as  in  the  world,  and  to  be  won 
By  slow  solicitation,  seize  at  once 
The  roving  thought,  and  fix  it  on  themselves." 


EVENINGS  AT  HOME. 


HE  evening  hours  are  the  holy  hours  of  home 
life.  They  are  the  hours  in  which  there  is 
the  freest  play  of  all  the  hallowed  influences 
that  come  from  the  domestic  relation ;  the 
hours  in  which  the  radiant  forces  of  the  home 
are  focalized  and  brought  to  their  highest 
efficiency. 

There  is  really  just  as  much  sunshine  on  a 
cloudy  day  as  when  the  sky  is  clear,  but  the 
sickly  growth  of  vegetation  during  cloudy 
weather  proclaims  its  ineffectiveness.  So  the  home  may 
exert  just  as  much  actual  influence  when  its  sunshine 
is  intercepted  by  the  clouds  of  care  and  busy  toil ; 
when  the  merciless  dispatch  with  which  "father's"  din- 
ner must  be  prepared,  or  with  which  some  of  those  many 
labors  inseparably  connected  with  the  home  life  must  be 
performed,  has  so  absorbed  the  time  and  energy  of  the 
family  that  each  member  seems  to  be  an  illustration  of  the 
"  survival  of  the  fittest."  Under  these  circumstances  the 
home  may  send  forth  as  large  an  amount  of  influence, 
and  yet  such  influence  cannot  reach  the  lives  and  charac- 


ten  of  those   \\h->  h.i\>  >y  b« 

r.ill.-.l  !.il«  ::t   !!,''.•  :.<  •-. 

"day  i  bit* 

iU  sweet 

•    actual 

In   opening  tli.-  f  young  tho 

from  the  h 
sunl: 

Tlie  distinctive  characteristics  of  the  home  life  a: 
fested  m< 
and  the  family  gather  mund  the  :iing. 

hour  of  evening  h  >me  life  i  ..n.nth  of  the 

ordinary    dai  c.     It    matters    litt'. 

days  are  spent  if  .filings  : 

n's  soul  is  not  re  'luring  tlie  day,  fur 

is  not  favorable.    The  labor  of  the  day  }  mud 

into  that  attitude  in  \vhieh  it  resists  r 
of  lif-  ;irocess  of  spiritual  i 

ance,  so  that  the  soul  that  toils  is  compa:  from 

the  snares  of  temptation. 

During  the  hours  of  labor  we  are  also  less  susceptible  to 
good  influences  as  well  as  to  evil  ones.  The  whole  being 
puts  itself  upon  the  defensive  while  it  toils.  Sat 
with  its  own  condition,  it  refuses  to  be  changed  by  outward 
influences.  In  this  principle  we  find  the  explanation  of 
the  adage  "idlen  i  rent  of  vice."  The  evening 


E\  KXIMJS  AT  DOME 


EVENINGS  AT  HOME.  137 

is  the  hour  when  crafty  Satan  preaches  most  eloquently. 
It  is  also  the  hour  at  which  he  can  gather  the  largest  and 
most  attentive  audience.  In  our  great  cities  Satan's 
churches  are  crowded  every  evening. 

But,  fortunately,  the  evening  hour  is  also  the  hour  in 
which  the  good  angel  can  gather  his  largest  audience,  and 
he  who  would  baffle  Satan's  influence  must  preach  in  the 
evening.  The  evening  is  the  hour  when  the  protecting 
power  of  home  is  greatest ;  it  is  the  hour  when  its  protec- 
tion is  most  needed.  We  see  a  divine  wisdom  in  this. 
The  only  hour  in  the  day  when  the  laboring  young  man  is 
vulnerable  to  temptation  is  when  his  labor  is  ended  and 
the  mind  relaxed,  and  just  at  this  needed  hour  the  home 
exerts  a  doubled  influence.  Parents  need  not  be  at  all 
anxious  concerning  the  character  of  their  boys  who  from 
choice  stay  at  home  evenings,  but  they  should  never  feel 
at  ease  concerning  those  who  desire  to  spend  their  even- 
ings away  from  home. 

We  do  not  mean  that  children  should  never  go  away 
from  home  evenings.  The  evening  is  a  very  proper  and 
agreeable  time  to  visit  our  neighbors,  and  children  should 
be  allowed  frequently  to  spend  the  evening  with  their 
neighbors'  children.  This  is  only  a  transfer  of  home  in- 
fluence. They  are  at  home  in  one  sense  when  at  their 
neighbors'  home,  or  at  least  they  are  surrounded  by  home 
influences. 

It  is  an  excellent  practice  to  allow  children,  even  when 


. 
but  v, 

In  ;  i  mild  le.vM'ii  in 

Again,  all  child  are  to  develop  into  n« 

and  i  be  brought 

with  tempta!  y  form 

M  commences,  and  the  more  gradually 
•  miter  t'  I 

welfare.     Ai.  to  their  i. 

bore'  alone  in  th 
own  sense  of  little 

' 

nt  them-  I  <»ups, 

is  one  of  :  prin- 

I 
strict  in  regard  to  the  hour  of  the  childr. 

li  tliem  t  ise  of  pro- 

them  1  a  gross  breach  of  good 

manners   to   stay    in  owl   a   certain    i 

o'clock. 
But  tins  is  fur  different  in   its  effect   fr 

when  t:  In  the 


EVENINGS  AT  HOME.  130 

they  are  compelled  to  go  home  by  an  inward  sense  of  pro- 
priety, and  in  the  other  by  an  outward  sense  of  authority. 
It  is  always  a  cross  for  children  to  leave  their  playmates, 
and  if  they  can  just  as  well  be  taught  to  make  this  sacrifice 
through  their  own  sense  of  propriety,  their  parents  should 
certainly  rejoice  in  this  early  opportunity  to  give  them  a 
practical  lesson  in  self  denial.  If  the  child  is  compelled  by 
an  outward  authority  located  at  home,  to  withdraw  from  a 
pleasant  associate,  he  is  quite  likely  to  conceive  a  dislike 
for  that  authority  and  for  the  place  toward  which  it  con- 
strains him. 

Then  let  the  children  visit.  Let  the  parents  visit  in  the 
evenings.  Let  all  the  members  of  the  family  feel  that  the 
home  is  not  a  prison.  This  is  the  only  way  in  which  chil- 
dren can  be  taught  to  love  home  and  to  feel  that  home  is  the 
best  place  to  spend  their  evenings.  You  cannot  make  them 
feel  this  by  compelling  them  to  stay  at  home  evenings.  If 
a  child  has  acquired  a  distaste  for  home,  the  evil  must  be 
corrected  by  the  use  of  mild  stratagem. 

One  of  the  strongest  arguments  for  the  habit  of  spending 
the  evenings  at  home  is  found  in  the  opportunity  which 
they  offer  to  the  young  for  self-improvement. 

Horace  Mann  once  wrote  a  beautiful  truth  in  the  form 
of  an  advertisement,  "  Lost,  yesterday,  somewhere  between 
sunrise  and  sunset,  two  golden  hours,  each  set  with  sixty 
diamond  minutes.  No  reward  is  offered,  for  they  are  gone 
forever." 


140 

We    would    like    to    have    tl  n   of 

little  6g- 
\Ve  incur  -vays 

because  he  hasn't  ti 

\V,   mean  tliat  young  man  who  is  mourning  because  he 
hasn't  an  education,  \  Id  have  gone  to  coll- 

he  have  spared  the  t 

show  him  how  many  of  those  golden  hours 
set  with  diamond  minutes  lie  has  thrown  a  was 

care  old.     It  is  nine  years  since  then,  and  in 
of  those  re   three   hu:  .:id   sixty-five 

Setting  aside   the  lifty-two   Sum!  i"gs» 

whirl.  er,  might  be  employed  to  advantage  wi: 

the  fourth  commandment,  then  taking  • 
two  evenings  more,  one  foi*  every  week,  for  visiting 
entertaining  visitors,  there  will  remain  two  him*" 
sixty-one.     Now  each  one  of  these  two  hundi  • 

:ngs  contains  four  of  those  golden  hours.     1 
iie  throws  away  one  thousand  and  forty -four  h 
During   the   nine  years  from   sixteen  to  twenty-five,  he 
nine   times  this  number,  or  nine  thui: 
1  and  ninety-six  hours. 

Just  think  of  it.     The  average  college  sti:  <'nds 

;r  hours  a  day  in  study.     There  are  five  days  in  a 

.   in  which  he  studies,  making  t  ours  a  v, 

Thirty-eight   weeks  constitute   the  college  year,  making 

.  hundred  ;i;  hieh  he  studies  in  h.  year. 


EVENINGS  AT  HOME.  141 

There  are  four  years  in  the  college  course.  Hence  in 
his  whole  course  he  studies  four  times  seven  hundred  and 
sixty,  or  three  thousand  and  forty  hours.  This  is  less 
than  a  third  as  many  as  the  young  man  may  throw  away 
between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  twenty-five.  Should  not 
every  such  young  man  feel  indignant  with  himself?  Time 
enough  spent  on  the  street  corners,  in  the  stores,  in  the 
hotel,  or  in  the  bar-room,  to  go  through  college  three  times. 
Nine  thousand  golden  hours  gemmed  with  five  hundred 
and  forty  thousand  diamond  minutes,  gone  forever. 

Perhaps  it  may  seem  even  cruel  in  us  to  remind  the 
young  man  of  his  terrible  loss,  but  it  is  never  too  late  to  do 
better.  A  noble  endeavor  can  never  be  too  early  or  too 
late.  We  would  not  cause  any  young  man  a  useless  pain- 
ful regret.  He  cannot  profit  by  mourning  over  spilt  milk, 
but  if  he  will  keep  his  pan  right  side  up  for  five  years  to 
come  he  can  go  through  college  yet,  and  graduate  when 
he  is  thirty  years  old,  and  have  the  honor  of  presenting  to 
himself  his  own  diploma. 

But  not  alone  for  the  opportunities  for  culture  which 
they  afford  are  evenings  to  be  prized.  The  evening  in  the 
happy  home  is  a  fragment  of  heaven,  we  cannot  afford  to 
lose  it.  The  ineffable  joy  that  human  nature  is  consti- 
tuted to  experience  at  the  evening  hour  around  the  golden 
altar  of  home,  is  a  symbol  and  a  prophecy  of  that  which 
every  truly  and  interiorly  developed  soul  has  reason  to 
believe  is  in  store  for  him.  It  is  the  only  place  where  each 


id  \\ith  that    di\ 

t  he  day 

die  :u-ti\ . 

l.-d  to  p  l"--t   in  tin-  mad  whirl  of 

tumultr.  '!'!:••  -  natu 

tend.  potation  whir! 

:ring  so  much  pleasure  l»y  the  revelatio 
tin*  i  f  divine  law  and  order.     Hut  \\ ' 

::iid  the  cheerfulness  of  the  61 
incut   at  home,    in  the   playful   solution  of  prull 
pii/y  act  with  that  spontaneity  and  accom] 

pleasure  on  their  own  acoount  which  blnl 
and   •  This  same  principle  app 

power  t.f  hrinir.     Wlio  d-.os  not  still  earry  in  his  mind  the 
;   pictures   of  happy  evenings  at  :i  all  the 

family  sat  hy  the  fire,  mother  with  her  knitting,  and  f, 
with  liir-  of  prouder  days,  while   the    kif 

l>olled  upon  the  floorer  played  with  the  hall  of 
fell  from  mot!  ,  and  while  the  fire-light  moved  upon 

vail  like  the  waving  of  a  white  wing  in  the  darkm 
ould  not  permit  so  much  joy  upon  the  - 
without  having  i'  :e?    Now  mother  tar- 

dily rises  to  light  the  lamp,  and  the  children  gather  round 
the  tahle  with  slate  and  pencil  to  grapple  with  those  little 
tasks  and  problems  that  only  sweeten  life's  remembrances. 


EVENINGS  AT  HOME.  143 

How  indelibly  through  all  the  change-freighted  years 
this  picture  remains  upon  the  canvas  of  the  soul.  Unlike 
the  perishing  works  of  genius,  time  never  bleaches  the 
canvas  nor  turns  the  picture  pale.  Gaze  on  that  picture, 
O  youth.  Nor  turn  your  eyes  aside  when  Temptation 
with  perfumed  robes  sweeps  past  thee  in  the  tumultuous 
rush  of  beauty's  carnival.  When  we  turn  our  eyes  from 
the  soft  colors  of  a  beautiful  picture,  to  gaze  upon  the 
brilliancy  of  the  electric  light,  and  then  turn  again  to  view 
the  picture,  how  dim  the  colors,  how  blurred  is  the  whole 
picture  till  we  "have  steadily  and  persistently  gazed  for  a 
long  time. 

Learn  a  lesson  from  the  analogy  that  exists  between  the 
spirit's  eye  and  that  of  the  body.  That  sweet  picture  of 
your  home,  O  youth,  gleams  not  brilliantly  but  softly 
and  forever  in  the  evening  fire-light.  Reflect  before  you 
turn  your  eyes  from  that  soft  fire-light  to  gaze  long  upon 
the  splendors  where  beauty  glides  'ueath  lights  that 
dazzle. 

"  Gladly  now  we  gather  round  It, 

For  the  toiling  day  is  done, 
And  the  gay  and  solemn  twilight 

Follows  down  the  golden  sun. 
Shadows  lengthen  on  the  pavement, 

Stalk  like  giants  through  the  gloom, 
Wander  past  the  dusky  casement, 

Creep  around  the  fire-lit  room. 
Draw  the  curtain,  close  the  shutters, 

Place  the  slippers  by  the  fire; 
Though  the  rude  wind  loudly  mutters, 

What  care  we  for  wind  sprite's  ire  ? 


144 

"  What  ear*  we  for  outward  serp 

Fickle  fortune'*  frowa  or  »i; 
If  around  iu  lore  Is  beam 

.  o  can  huinan  lib  been 
•Neath  UM  oottafa  roof  and  palace, 

From  tb*  peasant  to  the  k 
All  are  quaffing  from  life's  chalice 

MM   -  tkX   •  :•  .-:.:i:.:i:..  :.:   ITIII.,-. 

Grates  are  glowing,  music  flowing 
From  the  lips  we  love  the  beat; 

O,  the  Joy,  the  bliss  of  knowing 
There  are  hearts  whereon  to  rest! 

arts  that  throb  with  eager  gladness— 

Hearts  that  echo  to  our  own- 
While  grim  care  and  haunting  gsdnen 

Mingle  ne'er  in  look  or  tone. 
Care  may  tread  the  halls  of  daylight, 

Sadness  haunt  the  t  Mr, 

But  the  weird  and  witching  twi 

Brings  the  glowing  hearthstone's  dower. 
Altar  of  our  holiest  feelings  I 

Childhood's  well-remembered  shrine  I 
Spirit  yeanlings— soul  revealing*— 

Wreaths  immortal  round  thee  twine  t " 


• 


SELF  CULTURE. 


ULTURE  is  the  constant  elimination  of  use- 
less movements,  and  the  attainment  of  in- 
creasing economy  in  the  expenditure  of  our 
forces.  The  Indian  has  plenty  of  strength, 
but  the  white  man  of  half  his  weight  and 
strength,  who  has  acquired  the  art  of  boxing, 
is  more  than  a  match  for  him ;  and  this  for 
the  simple  reason  that  the  Indian  has  not  yet 
learned  to  eliminate  the  movements  that  do 
not  count.  He  is  a  spendthrift  as  regards 
forces.  But  the  white  man,' by  means  of  pa- 
tient culture,  has  learned  to  omit  all  useless 
movements,  and  to  expend  his  forces  in  that 
manner  and  at  that  time  and  place  in  which  they  will  tell 
the  most.  He  does  not  bend  a  joint  or  contract  a  muscle 
that  does  not  produce  some  desirable  outward  result. 

It  is  easy  to  detect  an  uncultured  person  in  society ;  for 
example,  when  he  attempts  to  walk  across  a  hall  or  draw- 
ing-room in  the  presence  of  spectators.  It  is  not  because 
he  does  not  perform  all  the  movements  necessary  to  take 
him  to  the  other  side,  but  because  he  performs  certain  other 

movements  that  interfere  with,  or  obstruct  the  essential 
10 


146 

movements;  such  as  tin-  tun. 

aide,  accompanied  l>y  a  \\a-t»Tul  exprndi: 

the  form  of  a  painful 

at  hi  :e    is   in    lii>   Mu.-h    a  \\.. 

vital  fon  impelling  the  blood  to  : 

BiR-h  inc.  are  UIH 

no  desirable  or  useful  re>ult.      Nature  has  n. 

us  a  i  '-1  such  mo-. 

them  awkward.     Slie  has  also 

ielight  from  \vit:. 

her   suggestion    we    call    them    graceful.  il    move- 

ments,   then,  are  simply   economical   movements.      I: 
person  referred  to   should  walk  across  the  hall  with  the 
possible   expenditure  of  vital  and  mental  fun  e,  the 
movement  would  necessarily  be  graceful.     Civil 
but  aggregate  culture,  ai  culture  is  the  spirit 

essence  of  economy,  we  see  why  it  ii  .re  of 

political  economy  has  always  develo 

with  civilization.     Indeed,  civilization  and 
.omy  are  one  and  the  same. 
Such,  then,    is   the    nature  of  culture   in  : 
Let  us  follow  out  the  principle  in  its  applicatio 

mental,  and  moral  natures,  and  see  whethe. 
can  find  in  it  anything  that  shall  be  of  use  to  us  in  the 

.ent  of  our  lives    and    characters.     Our   nu: 
are  cultured  when  we  can  use  them  with  no  waste  of  force. 
Our  intellects   are  cultured  when   we   can  solve   a  prob- 


SELF  CULTURE.  147 

lem  or  arrive  at  a  conclusion  by  the  shortest  and  most 
direct  route  of  logical  deduction.  Our  moral  nature  is 
cultured  when  duty  becomes  a  graceful  and  economical 
movement  in  the  soul ;  when  the  useless  movements  of  sin 
are  eliminated ;  when  all  our  spiritual  forces  are  concentra- 
ted, and  it  no  longer  becomes  necessary  to  divide  the  force 
by  detailing  a  squadron  to  guard  the  harbor  of  love  and 
duty  against  the  pirate  fleets  of  selfishness.  When  we  can 
say  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  without  a  diverting  and  wasting 
struggle  with  ourselves.  The  reason  why  certain  men 
have  been  able  to  accomplish  such  wonderful  results  in  the 
field  of  thought  and  investigation  is  because,  through  long 
toil  and  patient  culture,  they  have  learned  to  concentrate 
the  mental  forces  by  eliminating  all  useless  thoughts.  Like 
the  bee,  which  always  takes  a  straight  line,  they  have  ac- 
quired an  intellectual  instinct  by  which  they  are  enabled 
to  take  the  shortest,  directest,  and  consequently  most  eco- 
nomical line  of  logic  links  between  their  intellectual 
standpoint  and  the  solution  that  they  crave.  And  he  who 
can  do  this,  he  who  can  take  the  shortest  road,  can  surely 
go  farther  and  accomplish  more  in  the  same  time  than  he 
who  is  compelled  to  hunt  out  his  path,  to  travel  through 
all  the  by-ways,  the  briers,  the  brambles,  and  the  under- 
brush, and  at  last,  perhaps,  lose  his  way  altogether  in  the 
vast  swamp  of  intellectual  uncertainty. 

All  culture  in  its  ultimate   analysis  is  necessarily  self 
culture.     Culture  when  used  as  a  verb  always  means  to 


148 

1 

him   to 

tary  nu>\  in  the  d  vflL     But  if  ho 

does  not  choose  to  act  according  !••  our  wi 
ceases  until  he  becomes  willing  ;  V,V  ca 

tun-  anything   that   has    tin-    pon  Hence, 

when  \ve  l>reak  a  c<>lt,or  train  a  dog,  he  cultu: 
our  suggestion.     And    thus   :  1  tlie  culture  we 

;u  this    li  self  culture.     T« •.,, -h.-iv 

suggest,  but  we  must  execute  ;  : 
must  do  the  work. 

The  sense  in  which  we  have  used  the  v.-^rd   wi 
is  not  very  dillen-nt  fnnn  that  in  which  we  h  1  the 

word  "education"   in  the  cliapter  on  the  "  IMi: 
our  Boys."     Indeed, all  that  we  1. 
tion  in  either  chapter  might  1. 

.  in  the  other.     We  will  allow  the  one  t 
the  o; 

The  words  educate,  train  and  culture  .'tro,  for  all  prac- 
tical purposes,  synonymous,  and  may  l»c  u>cd  interchange- 
ably. 

In  our  chapter  on  "  Home  Training  ''  we  have  presented 
some  similar  thoughts  concerning  the  import;;  rain- 

ing or  cultivating  the  physical,  intel!  .!  na- 

ture in  the  proper  order,  and  in  the   i:  That, 

however,  was  intended  chiefly  for  advice  to 


SELF  CULTURE.        »  149 

cernirig  the  management  of  children  too  young  to  attempt 
self  culture.  But  the  primary  constitution  does  not 
change.  What  the  child  requires,  the  youth  and  young 
man  require,  only,  perhaps,  in  larger  quantities  and  in 
different  proportion.  Hence  in  this  chapter  we  shall  aim 
to  give  such  helpful  advice  as  will  enable  young  men  and 
women  to  continue  the  process  that  their  parents  helped 
them  to  begin.  They  may  now  call  it  self  culture,  to  de- 
note a  higher  stage  of  the  same  process.  The  first  and 
chief  aim  of  self  culture,  as  of  all  education,  should  be 
symmetry.  The  undue  strengthening  of  one  part  or  fac- 
ulty, to  the  neglect  of  another,  is  not  culture,  but  accord- 
ing to  our  definition  it  is  the  reverse,  for  it  destroys  that 
power  of  co-ordinate  action  and  economical  expenditure  of 
effort  in  which  culture  consists.  No  power  of  mind  or 
body  exists  independent  of  other  powers,  and  no  one  can 
be  unduly  strengthened  without  peril  to  the  other  and 
weaker  ones.  If  the  stomach  be  enlarged  by  overeating, 
while  the  lungs  be  kept  weak  and  small,  the  whole  body 
will  become  diseased  and  the  mind  also ;  for  a  sound  mind 
cannot  exist  in  an  unhealthy  body.  The  stomach,  being 
large,  will  crave  a  large  amount  of  food,  but  the  lungs,  be- 
ing small,  cannot  furnish  oxygen  enough  to  oxidize  the 
carbon  that  is  furnished  to  the  blood  by  the  stomach ;  so 
the  system  becomes  clogged ;  corrupt  and  troublesome  ul- 
cers appear,  and  perhaps  consumption,  and  all  because  the 
stomach  was  enlarged.  Not  because  the  lungs  were  not 


150 

culth  tivated  a! 

- 
lo\r  the  indej  '  separate  training  of  ai. 

:  .  tlitf 

. 

lea  be  all  cultivated  to. 
cultivated  th 

kind  of  culture  to  excess.     Hut:: 

all,  ir  .ot'to  specially  cultivate  any  of  the 

physical  functions. 

i  fact  that  circus  performers  are  very 

short  lived  ;    and  yet  we  would  naturally  expect  them   to 
live  to  a  very  old  age.     II«\v  full  and  powerful  their  ! 

::!<•!     How  almost  marvelous  tL  'h  of 

their  muse], -s  !      H..\V  rivet  they  are  !      What  free 

•rgans  must  have!     They  are  e  I  ley 

their  employment  to  live  temperately ;    their  that 

which  is   recommended  l>y  the  highest  medical  auth< 

;>  in  well  ventilated  rooms.     It   woi:'  that 

•Jily  immortality  were  possible,  the  :  :ial  gym- 

nas-  boon. 

Hu:  rage  duration  of  their   1  verji 

short.     I:  !  we  account  for  this  j>aradox?     Simply 

by  that  principle  just  named,  which  demands  the  symmet- 
rical and  proportionate  development  of  all   the  func; 

f  the  muscles  to  such  an  extent,  that 
like  wasting  fire  they  ie  their  vitality.     In  spite  of 


SELF  CULTURE.  151 

all  hygienic  regimen  and  temperance,  their  training  is  not 
symmetrical,  although  it  may  appear  to  be  such.  The  hu- 
man body  is  a  delicate  machine,  and  no  wheel  can  be  made 
to  turn  faster  or  slower  than  it  was  intended  to  turn  with- 
out tearing  off  the  cogs.  But  it  is  often  found  that  in  the 
same  individual  certain  vital  organs  even  without  special 
culture  are  larger  and  more  powerful  than  others,  and  this 
is  doubtless  the  reason  why  many  apparently  healthy  peo- 
ple die  young.  It  is  because  they  are  born  with  some  of 
the  vital  organs  powerfully  developed,  while  others  are 
weak,  and  the  strong  ones  consume  the  vitality  that  the 
weak  ones  have  not  the  energy  to  appropriate.  It  should 
be  the  first  object  of  culture  to  balance  the  powers  by  cul- 
tivating the  weak  and  restraining  the  overaction  of  the 
strong.  After  this  most  desirable  result  has  been  secured, 
all  the  functions  should  be  trained  alike,  and  the  whole 
carried  to  the  highest  possible  state  of  culture.  It  is 
usually  an  easy  matter  to  ascertain  what  organs  of  the 
body  are  weak,  and  what  strong,  but  in  case  the  facts  are 
not  obvious,  a  physician  should  be  consulted,  who  should 
be  requested  to  test  all  the  vital  organs  ;  not  to  doctor 
them,  but  to  measure  their  strength.  If  the  brain  and 
nervous  system  are  predominant,  much  muscular  exercise 
should  be  taken,  while  the  mental  powers,  and  especially 
the  imagination,  should  be  restrained.  If  the  reverse  is 
true,  the  brain  should  be  forced  to  act,  and  the  tendency 
to  muscular  action  should  be  held  in  check.  If  the  mus- 


181 

cles  are 

full    ex  h   a   practice  v  :•«  to 

D    tin1    1' 

diti.>:  viier   seen    in    \\  ''nan    in    men;    1 

;cntlv    injure    tl.  : 

•'.•an  the  :  <  little  injury 

• 

:t  Niitur-  kind  to  those  who  are  too  i 

rant    to   ascertain   their  own 

stituteil  us  that  the  best  and  eful  form  of  CX( 

is  that  of  walking  or  running.     And  that  is  just 
of  exerc:  >  of  life  compel  us  to  take 

the  most  of.      This  form  of  exercise  actually  has  a 
dency  to  balance  the  organic  develfj 
into  action  c\  -u  of  th 

to  benefit  th  ones  relativ^  than  1' 

ones.     For  instance,  if  the  lungs  are  weak  and  th< 

:he  first  to  s  :   and 

will  say  so  just  at  that  moment  \\}.  e  re 

ceived  the  greatest  possible  amount  of  good  from  the  run- 
ning. 

The  lungs  will  have  received  just  enough  exercise  to  do 
them  good  long  before  the  muscles  have  had  enough  to  test 
their  endurance,  or  to  strengthen  them  much.  If  the  mus- 
cles are  weak  and  the  lungs  strong,  then  the  muscles  will 
control  the  amount  of  running,  and  adapt  it  to  their 


SELF  CULTURE.  153 

particular  needs.  Long  before  the  lungs  have  received  ex- 
ercise enough  to  do  them  much  good,  the  muscles  will  have 
received  just  enough  to  do  them  the  greatest  possible 
amount  of  good.  Thus  we  see  how  it  is  that  running  is 
the  best  exercise  in  the  world,  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
relieves  us  of  the  responsibility  of  ascertaining  which  are 
our  weak  organs,  for  it  will  pick  them  out  for  us  and  make 
them  strong.  People  both  walk  and  run  far  too  little.  It 
is,  perhaps,  impossible  for  human  beings  or  animals  to  be 
born  with  all  their  organs  in  a  state  of  perfect  balance,  and 
running  seems  to  be  Nature's  means  of  balancing  them,  for 
she  gives  the  young  of  all  animals,  the  human  species 
included,  an  irrepressible  impulse  to  run  almost  contin- 
ually, and  during  that  age,  too,  in  which  their  organs  are 
most  easily  modified. 

As  a  rule,  children  need  no  other  physical  culture  than 
their  own  freedom.  A  child  in  the  woods  for  one  day  will 
do  more  in  the  direction  of  curing  an  organic  weakness 
than  all  the  doctors  of  Christendom. 

We  have  spoken  thus  minutely  on  the  subject  of  physi- 
cal culture  because  physical  culture  is  not  only  the  basis  of 
all  culture,  but  the  same  general  directions  which  we  have 
given,  are  as  applicable  to  intellectual  and  moral  culture 
as  to  physical. 

Symmetry  is  the  one  idea  that  should  be  kept  promi- 
nently in  view  in  all  forms  of  culture.  But  the  laws  of 
the  mind  are  such  as  to  allow  considerable  margin  for 


IM 

variety's  *ake.     One  i  his 

men: 

essarv  tlj.it  la-  he  alilr  with  co,iul  .  iulin 

and   calculate  an  cclip>e.      He  u. 

latent  talent  f.-r  muMC  as  to  i  iiis  not  only  : 

.nt  luit  also:  the  most  profitable  occupation  of  hi 
anil  still  violate  no  essential  law  of  symmetry.      Hut  if  he 
possesses  the  talent  to  such  a  is  to  bec< 

his  whole  mental  energ 

aion,  and  he  is  left  to  feel  that  there  is  nothing  e'. 
music  to  render  life  worth  living,  he  has  passed  the  limits 
'i    the    1,'iw    of  variety   allows    him    and    has  br 
mmetrieal.     1 1  is  musical  faculty  should  be  restrained, 
while  other  faculties  should  be  called  to  the  front  and 
Celled  to  a«-t.     This  i>  a  hard   task  and  one  which  i 
frotjuently  accomplished,  for  the  vory  reason  th.r 
difiiculty  itself  is  of  such  a  character 
son    from   seeing    things   in    their  true  li^'ht.     \\' 
talks  to  him  about  the  grandeur  of  science  and  the  '. 
ties  of  philosophy,  he  listens  with  impatience  to  such  fool- 
ishness.    The  same  is  true  of  all  forms  of  disproporti 
mental  development.     Nothing   but    a    knowledge  of  the 
mental  economy  will  enable  one,  under  these  circumstances, 
to  see  himself  as  he  is.     When  one  looks  upon    hi: 
from  the  standpoint  of  mental  science,  he  eliminates  the 
bias  of  his  own  feelings  resulting  from  his  stron 
dencies,  and  sees  himself  as  others  see  him.     It  is 


SELF  CULTURE.  155 

often  the  case  that  one  can  be  made  to  see  his  own  mental 
defects  in  no  other  way  than  by  a  study  of  mental  science. 

There  is  one  law  of  great  importance  that  should  not  be 
lost  sight  of  either  in  physical  or  mental  culture.  It  is 
the  law  of  periodicity.  It  is  in  recognition  of  this  law 
that  the  professional  gymnast  is  required  to  practice  at 
just  such  an  hour  each  day.  In  some  way  which  we  can- 
not fully  understand,  the  muscles  instinctively  adapt  them- 
selves to  the  conditions  of  periodical  activity,  so  that  when 
the  appointed  hour  arrives  it  finds  them  in  that  particular 
condition  which  enables  them  to  derive  the  greatest  possi- 
ble amount  of  good  from  a  given  amount  of  practice.  The 
law  operates  precisely  the  same  in  the  mental  economy. 
A  music  teacher  who  has  had  much  experience  will  insist 
that  the  pupil  practice  at  the  same  hour  each  day. 

It  is  not  essential  that  we  should  advise  more  minutely 
with  reference  to  the  education  of  the  mental  powers,  since 
the  needed  advice  may  be  found  in  the  chapter  devoted 
expressly  to  that  subject. 

Moral  culture  involves  no  different  principle  from  that 
of  intellectual  culture,  and  the  cardinal  idea  of  symmetry 
is  as  applicable  to  this  form  as  to  the  two  forms  we  have 
already  considered.  The  same  is  true  of  the  law  of  period- 
icity ;  the  saint  who  prays  at  regular  periods  will  grow  in 
the  instinct  of  prayer  and  faith,  while  he  who  prays  only 
when  he  finds  it  convenient  will  find  that  the  intervals 
constantly  wider.  It  is  necessary,  however,  to  keep 


156 

constantly  in  miml  tho  fact  that  • 

.-f  him  who  lays  claim  to  mo  ,.it  of  the 

com]  icy  of  t:  •    ••  pas- 

.     All  sin  originates  in  passional    supremacy,  while 

out  of  tho  ceaseless  and  often  equal 

moral  impulses   and    those  of  the   passions,  grow   all   the 

uas  of  human  conduct.  A  person  in  whom  the  '. 
condition  exists  will  remain  alike  to  his  friends  and 
an  ii!  Via.  He  will  be  both  very  good  and  very 

When  under  the  dominion  of  the  e.\  .ssions  he 

:>e  a  fit-nil;  but  an  hour  later  lie  :  The 

saddest  condition  for  a  human  being  is  that  in  which  the 
passions  and  moral  sentiments  are  so  equally  1  that 

neither  can  gain  a  permanent  victory  over  the  other. 

When  tin-  moral  sentiments  and  the  passions  are  both 
predominant  at  intervals,  the  moral  sense  becomes  capri- 
cious and  cannot  be  depended  upon.  The  person  becomes 
distrustful  of  his  own  good  resolves,  and  b 
loses  all  stability  and  permanence.  Either  condition  is 
noutjh,  but  on  the  whole  we  regard  the  relation  of 
equality  between  the  passions  and  the  morals  as  the  most 
dangerous  and  dcstructi . 

So  deplorable  is  this  condition  that  we  would  even  regard 

,uent  ascendency  of  the  passions  -er  evil. 

Such  a  condition  offers  little  hope  of  recovery,  for  the 
•ns  and  moral  sentiments  both  grow  by  their  occa- 
I  victories,  the  one  as  fast  as  the  other,  and  both  are 


SELF  CULTURE.  157 

weakened  by  their  occasional  defeats,  the  one  as  much  as 
the  other.  The  remedy  for  this  condition  is  to  make  the 
intellect  an  ally  for  the  conscience.  It  should  be  required 
to  devise  means  to  keep  the  passions  out  of  temptation. 
When  the  passions  are  not  aroused  by  the  presence  of 
temptation,  they  are  not  difficult  to  manage.  Ordinarily, 
however,  temptation  is  a  source  of  strength,  uniformly, 
indeed,  if  it  be  resisted.  But  this  condition  is  not  always 
fulfilled,  and  in  the  case  we  are  considering  it  is  almost 
sure  not  to  be  fulfilled,  so  that  the  intellect  should  see  that 
temptation  is  never  allowed  to  be  present,  and  should  seek 
those  places,  occasions,  and  influences  that  appeal  to  the 
morals.  By  persisting  in  this  course  a  long  time  the  moral 
nature  will  gain  a  permanent  victory,  and  then  the  vigilant 
restraint  may  be  removed,  the  fetters  may  be  taken  off 
from  the  passions,  and  they  will  recognize  their  master. 

"  When  gentle  twilight  sits 
On  day's  forsaken  throne, 
'Mid  the  sweet  hush  of  eventide, 
Muse  by  thyself  alone. 
And  at  the  time  of  rest 
Ere  sleep  asserts  its  power, 
Hold  pleasant  converse  with  thyself 
In  meditation's  bower. 

"  Motives  and  deeds  review 
By  memory's  truthful  glass, 
Thy  silent  self  the  only  judge 
And  critic  as  they  pass; 
And  if  thy  wayward  face 
Should  give  thy  conscience  pain, 
Resolve  with  energy  divine 
The  victory  to  gain. 


liS 


ik  wnton  fmrn  tin-  fount 
That  in  thy  bosom  springs, 
And  enry  i  ^lod  draught 

atraps  or  of  kings; 
80  ahalt  tbou  find  at  last, 
Far  from  the  giddy  brain 
Self-knowledge  and  self-culture 
To  uocomputed  gain." 


SUNDAYS  AT   HOME. 


HETHER  we  regard  the  Sabbath  as  divinely 
appointed  or  as  growing  out  of  the  instincts 
and  necessities  of  man's  moral  and  spiritual 
nature,  the  experience  of  man  has  demon- 
!  strated  that  it  sustains  a  vital  relation  to  our 
highest  welfare. 

Hence  no  work  dealing  with  the  varied 
phases  of  domestic  life  would  be  complete 
without  a  chapter  on  "  Sundays  at  Home." 
With  the  exception  of  the  few  hours  sup- 
posed by  all  civilized  people  to  be  spent  in 
public  worship,  the  day  is  not  in  any  sense 
a  public  day,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
most  private  of  all  days.  It  is  a  day  when 
the  loud  tumult  of  public  affairs  is  hushed, 
and  each  individual  becomes  a  world  in  him- 
self. It  is  a  day  of  personal  meditation.  A 
$&  purely  public  day,  like  the  Fourth  of  July  in 

the  United  States,  bears  little  relation  to  the 
home  life.  It  is  from  the  fact  that  Sunday  is  the  most 
private  of  all  days,  that  we  here  make  it  a  subject  of 


iao 

special  < 
what  purpo- 

i  of  no  « 

.th  do  we  spend  so  large  a  part  at  home.     For  tho 
small  part  tL.  public  worship  by  no  u, 

lined   on   other  '»r  and  those 

I  which  partially  or  wholly  isolate  us  fr 
ences  of  home. 

How.  then,  -lull  we  employ  the  Su:  How 

shall  we  secure  for  it  a  place  among  the  hijv 
of  home  life  ?    This,  of  (••  1  depend  somewhat  npoii 

the  \  hold  concerning  the  nat  ;  the 

Sabbath.     I     '.     not  our  purpose  to  discuss  t! 
its  theological  aspect,  but  simply  to  com: 
to  yield  a  contribution  to  the  lessons  of  home  li.  , 
yet  it  is  impossible  to  do  even  this  without  taking  some 
definite  ground  as  to  the  religious  signif:  day. 

It  is  useless  to  contend  that  the  Sabbath  has  no  reli. 

:icance,  for  to  divest  it  of  such  significance,  would  be, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  to  abolish  it  fr.     If 

claimed  that  the  Sabbath  was  born  of  human  : 

.s  of  the  religioi  .  to  prove  that  i 

thus  born  would  be  to  claim  for  it  a  Divine  sanction.     We 
believe  that  the  religious  nature  of  man  and  t: 
of  the  Sabbath  are  complementary,  the  one  to  the  o 
But  whatever  origin  may  be  claimed  for  the  Sabbath,  and 


SUNDAYS  AT  HOME.  161 

whatever  purpose  it  was  primarily  intended  to  serve  in  the 
economy  of  civilization,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that 
It  was  intended  for  a  period  of  "  suspended  animation  "  or 
of  physical  and  mental  stagnation.  Jesus  rebuked  the  too 
close  and  Pharisaical  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  and 
taught,  both  by  precept  and  by  example,  that  man  was  not 
made  in  order  that  he  might  observe  the  Sabbath,  but  on 
the  contrary,  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  in  order  that  man 
might  have  the  privilege  of  observing  it.  Man  was  made 
first  and  the  Sabbath  was  adapted  to  him,  although  we  be- 
lieve that  the  natural  law  on  which  the  Sabbath  is  based 
is  coeval  with  the  history  of  creation. 

If,  then,  the  Sabbath  originated  in  the  religious  instincts 
of  man,  it  is  inconsistent  and  foolish  to  contend  that  it 
should  not  be  observed  as  a  day  of  special  religious  exer- 
cise. But  the  question  still  arises,  what  constitutes  special 
religious  exercise  ?  and  by  what  method  is  the  desired 
result  best  attained  ?  The  now  generally  recognized  law 
that  disagreeable  or  painful  action  always  weakens  instead 
of  strengthening  the  faculty  involved,  is  directly  opposed 
to  the  Puritanic  observance  of  the  Sabbath  ;  for  how  can 
a  child  be  submitted  to  more  intense  mental  torture,  than 
to  be  compelled  to  spend  a  whole  day  where  he  is  not  al- 
lowed to  smile,  where  all  conversation  is  suppressed,  ex- 
cept that  which  is  absolutely  necessary,  and  where  even 
that  is  conducted  with  semi-whispers  in  the  unmistakable 

tone  of  reverence  and  awe.     The  Sabbath  in  too  many 
11 


senra 

' 

ire.     Tin-  «•:  is  •!• 

far  worse  than  on  at  all.     This  law 

i   is  most  obvious  \vitli  and 

spiritual                 s.     These   mu>t  act   from  choiee  or  they 

cam:                 .-ngthencd.      Hence  the   question    becomes  a 

most  delicate  one,  "How  shall  the  Sunday  be  spent  at 

hq>s   no  further  advice  to  the  intelligent  parent  is 
required  than  that  he  should  be  guided  in  all  cases  by  this 
great  law,  that  every  action,  in  order  that  it  in 
the  part  acting,  must  be  accompanied  with 
stead  of  pain. 

In  the  first  place,  let  the  Sunday  at  home  be  divested  "f 
all  needless  solemnity  ;  let  it  be  a  day  of  cheerfulnes- 
1  enjoyment,  a  day  of  music  both   instrumental 
vocal,  a  day  of  conversation  and  reading.     Let  the  chil- 
dren be  taught  to  think  and  to  meditate  on  the  gr 
lems  of  life  and  the  vast  concerns  of  eternity,  not  in  a  sol- 
emn. ,iv,  but  in  a  manm  :  ant  with 
good  judgment  and  common  sense.     Let  them  1 

to  engage  in  respectful  <: 

on  these  questions.     Thus  will   they  early  d 
dency  to  think  and  hold  opinions  of  their  uv> 


SUNDAYS  AT  HOME.  1G3 

the  parents'  superior  wisdom  may  detect  and  point  out  fal- 
lacies in  their  reasoning.  There  is  little  danger  of  sophis- 
try and  false  conclusions  in  these  arguments  if  the  parent 
is  watchful,  and  seeks  constantly  to  set  the  young  thinkers 
right,  not  by  an  ipse  dixit,  nor  even  by  "  thus  saith  the 
Scripture,"  but  by  convincing  their  reason  with  superior 
logic.  When  one  begins  to  doubt  any  doctrine,  whether 
intellectual  or  religious,  he  naturally  conceives  a  dislike 
for  any  authority  which  disputes  his  ground,  unless  the 
authority  is  enforced  by  reasons  which  his  own  intellect  is 
compelled  to  acknowledge  as  conclusive.  Superior  logic 
is  the  only  authority  which  a  questioning  mind  naturally 
receives  with  good  grace.  Hence,  if  you  do  not  wish  your 
child  to  hate  the  Bible,  do  not  attempt  to  silence  all  his 
questions  by  the  mere  quotation  of  Scriptural  texts,  but 
first,  calmly  and  kindly  lay  bare  the  fallacy  in  his  argu- 
ment, and  then  show  him,  if  you  choose,  how  your  own 
argument  accords  with  Scripture. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  why  not  teach  the  child  to  trust  ? 
why  cultivate  a  tendency  to  question,  by  harboring  the 
argumentative  disposition  ?  There  is,  it  is  true,  a  period 
in  early  childhood  when  unquestioning  trust  is  natural  and 
proper.  But  let  us  remember  that  when  the  child  reaches 
the  age  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  he  comes  suddenly  into  pos- 
session of  the  weapon  of  logic,  and  no  matter  what  may 
have  been  the  teachings  and  influences  of  his  early  years, 
he  will,  between  the  ages  of  fourteen  and  twenty,  think, 


OUR  UOUE. 

d"tibt,    ;iiid   question    for    himself.       I  m    mind, 

howev.T   trustful    it  may  br  through  chil«lh<  od,  must  paot 
:gh  its  period  of  doubt  ami  im.Mit.il 

his   period   is   passed,  the   better  and    the  safer. 
«•  out  of  those  minds  which  only 

'(    of    bigoted  fathers,  after    the    awaktMiing 
.lands  a  reason. 

Wi  -out  themselves    to 

minds,  questions  that   insist   upon  an  answer,  d; 
with  the  merely  dogmatic  answer  of  the  father,  they  nat- 
urally appropriate  the  most  logical  explanation  at   hand, 
which,  of  course,  partakes  of  the  narrowness  of  their  own 
thought-power,  and  thus  they  are  often  led  ast 

There  are  probably  in  the  world  few  atheists  who 
would  be  such  had  their  young  logic  been  answered  with 
logic  and  not  with  authority.  We  believe  that  a  verj 
large  per  cent,  of  the  world's  unbelief  is  due  to  a  wrong 
system  of  Sunday  discipline. 

But  we  would  not  have  the  children  disregard  the 
solemnity  and  sanctity  of  the  Sabbath.  It  is  natural  for 
children  as  well  as  for  older  people  to  have  their  periods  of 
serious  thought.  But  parents  should  bear  in  mind  that 
with  the  child  these  periods  are  not  naturally  quite  so 
serious  nor  so  protracted  as  their  own.  We  believe  the 
day  should  be  a  day  of  rest,  not,  however,  for  the  reason 
usually  assigned,  viz.,  that  man's  physical  nature  re- 
quires it.  For  to  suppose  that  the  natural  duties  of  life 


SUNDAYS  AT  HOME.  165 

constitute  a  burden  so  heavy  that  it  cannot  be  borne  with- 
out constantly  putting  it  down,  is  to  suppose  that  God 
made  a  mistake  in  the  adaptation  of  life's  powers  to  its 
duties. 

Man  is  surely  as  well  adapted  to  his  natural  surround- 
ings as  the  ant  or  the  beaver,  and  to  these,  the  burden  of 
life's  labor  is  not  so  great  as  to  require  a  periodic  rest. 

We  believe  that  the  philosophy  of  the  Sabbath  as  a  day 
of  rest  is  to  be  found  in  Nature's  law  of  undivided  inten- 
sity, the  law  by  which  it  is  impossible  for  an  organized 
being  to  act  intensely  at  two  or  more  points  at  the  same 
time.  This  law  holds  with  equal  force  in  the  physical,  in- 
tellectual and  moral  worlds.  The  physician  makes  a  prac- 
tical application  of  its  physical  phase  when  he  irritates 
the  feet  with  drafts  to  cure  the  headache.  The  student 
applies  its  mental  phase  when  he  requires  his  room  to  be 
silent  in  order  that  he  may  put  his  "  whole  mind  "  to  his 
task.  And  the  saint  applies  its  moral  phase  when  he  avoids 
temptation  and  prays  in  his  closet. 

Now  the  Sabbath  is  the  complement  of  man's  religious 
nature,  and  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  "  periodicity,"  of 
which  we  have  already  spoken  in  our  chapter  on  "  Self 
Culture,"  this  department  of  his  nature  must  act  with 
Bpecial  force  at  certain  regular  periods.  In  the  light  of 
these  facts  the  whole  philosophy  of  the  Sabbath  as  a  day 
of  rest  may  be  seen  at  a  glance  by  watching  a  laborer  at 
work.  Suddenly  a  thought  seizes  him  ;  one  which  deeply 


••ste,  and  vitally  him.      1  y  h» 

.leas. 

Now  we  have  only  to  regard   t!  1  as  one 

boring  for  his  daily  bread,  but,  who  b;. 

!•  called   up.  :  •••ven  days,  to  think 

upon   the   great  concerns  of  tli 
and  the  unseen.     The  same  instinct  that 
chanic  to    drop   his  tool  and    i-tand   : 
world    to  do  ...-.      It  is  hut  the  instinctive   aj  ; 

tion  of  this  universal  law  of  undivided  intensity  that  < 

irnnce  door,  the  roar  of  the  engine,  an 

::,antle  of  silent  thought  over  the  gr< 

:  then  a  sin  to  labor  on  the  Sabbath'.'     Yes,  a 
sin,  a  sin  against  both  our  physical  and  our  moral  nature. 

i  one  eats  heartily  when  engaged  in  in 
d  labor,  lie  sins  against  both  his  mind  and 
:.  -ians  tell  us,  we  can  do  nothing  more  inju: 
r.iin  having  concentrated  nearly  all  the  vital  energy  of 

MI,  the  stomach  is  in  consequence  left  feeble- 
unable  to  ..f  its  burden  without  a  great  strain, 
same  principle  holds  with  reference  to  lab 
on  the  Sabbath.    The  absorbing  occupation  of 

1  be  tht-  f  ourselves  with  the  one  view  to 

-elf  culture.     Si:  the  day  of  all  <  I 

self  culture.     It  is  a  day  in  which  ;r  re- 

lation '•;••]•.  and  in  accordance  with  the  impulse* 

of  th*  moral  nntui-f.  :;11  «,  il  energies  should  be  ex- 


SUNDAYS  AT  HOME.  167 

pended  in  rounding  out  our  characters,  and  perfecting  our 
whole  nature. 

But  he  who  attempts  this  great  work  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  at  the  same  time  attempts  to  carry  on  the  ordinary  la- 
bors of  life,  is  not  only  thwarting  his  own  efforts  at  self- 
improvement,  but  is  doing  that  which  will  shorten  his  life 
perhaps  a  score  of  years, 

But  he  who  carries  his  ordinary  labors  into  the  Sabbath 
does  not,  of  course,  observe  the  day.  Then  he  commits  a 
still  worse  sin.  He  not  only  sins  against  society,  which, 
however,  is  a  comparatively  minor  sin,  but  he  refuses  to 
obey  a  great  spiritual  law,  which  is  woven  into  the  very 
constitution  of  his  moral  nature. 

So  that,  view  the  subject  as  we  may,  we  cannot  ignore 
the  Sabbath  without  sinning  against  ourselves,  and  we  can- 
not sin  against  ourselves  without  sinning  against  our  God. 

"  0  day  to  sweet  religious  thought 

So  wisely  set  apart, 
Back  to  the  silent  strength  of  life 
Help  thou  my  wavering  heart. 

"  Nor  let  the  obtrusive  lies  of  sense 

My  meditations  draw 
From  the  composed,  majestic  realm 
Of  everlasting  law. 

"Break  down  whatever  hindering  shapM 

I  see  or  seem  to  see, 
And  make  my  soul  acquainted  with 
Celestial  company. 

"  Beyond  the  wintry  waste  of  death 

Shine  fields  of  heavenly  light; 
Let  not  this  incident  of  Mme 
Absorh  me  from  their  sight. 


ow  U*M  outward  fora*  wh<r«4a 
80  much  my  hope*  I  •lay, 
Ar«  but  the  »hadowy  hint*  of  thai 
Which  cannot  paas  away. 

"That  Jtut  outald*  the  work-day  pa* 

By  man's  volition  trod, 

Ue  the  raaiatleM  IMUM  of 

Tha  thiflgs  ordaiavd  of 


RESOLUTIONS  AND 
INDIVIDUAL  RULES   OF  LIFE. 


UCCESSFUL  culture  is  never  the  result  of 
unmethodical  effort.  The  best  results  are 
obtained  only  when  due  regard  is  had  to  a 
judicious  and  systematic  use  of  time,  when 
the  mind  subjects  itself  to  self-government 
through  a  code  of  laws  adopted  and  ap- 
proved by  itself.  Mind  in  all  its  operations 
and  volitions  is  under  the  dominion  of  law. 
There  is  no  product  of  creation's  law  that  in  its  operations 
can  transcend  law.  A  being,  then,  develops  best  and  most 
rapidly  when  each  department  of  his  nature  is  subjected  to 
the  rigid  discipline  of  its  own  laws.  In  our  chapter  on  self- 
culture  we  have  dwelt  upon  the  general  laws  that  govern 
our  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  natures ;  but  there  are 
laws  of  a  less  general  nature,  which  it  is  equally  important 
that  we  should  observe,  laws  pertaining  to  individuals 
and  growing  out  of  organic  or  temperamental  conditions. 
These  laws  each  individual  must  discover  and  obey  for 
himself ;  for  since  they  originate  in  individual  peculiarities 
they  cannot  be  of  general  significance,  and  hence  cannot 


be  formulated  into  a  code  by  any  hut   th- 
self.     Such  arc  the  laws  pertaining  t 

:!ir  amount  -1   hy  cadi   pcr>- 

kind  and  quantity  of  food  <!• 
processes  of  thought  and   mental  activity  that  \ary  with 

uperamenta. 

All  these  laws  should  be  ascertained  hy  self-exa- 
and  !  nbering  our  own  experiences.     In  th; 

ti«>n  it  is  proper  to  consider  the  importance  of  dividin;: 
each  day  iuto  periods  for  the  performance  of  special  d 
Learn  from  self-observation  what  part  of  the  day  m, 
with  greatest  advantage  spent  in  reading  and  study. 
alone,  however,  with  reference  to  reading  and  stud. 
with  reference  to  each  and  every  function  of  life.     I5ut  it 
is  not  enough  merely  to  learn  these  facts.     It  is  f.ir 
important,  as  it  is  far  more  difficult,  to  form  . 
resolutions  to  which  this  knowledge  should  prompt 

This  subject  naturally  suggests  the  practice  of  keeping  a 
journal.     And,  perhaps,  there  is  no  duty  <  f  life  rand  we 

this  a  duty  of  all),  which,  in   j 
exertion  it  requires,  is  capable  of  yielding  sue:. 
suits  in  the  direction  of  personal  culture.     E  ti  the 

advantages  of  being  able,  at  a  moment's  notice,  to  p: 

vritten  volume  of  our  lives  (not  the  generalities 
glowing  eulogiums  in  which  biographers  and  liter. 

»),  such   a   minute   delineation   of    our 
thoughts  and   deeds  through   all   our  past   y 


INDIVIDUAL  RULES  OF  LIFE.  171 

<?auble  us  at  any  moment,  to  tell  what  function  in  our 
life's  programme  a  given  day  has  performed, — setting 
aside  all  this,  there  is  probably  no  one  practice  more  dis- 
ciplinary in  its  permanent  effects,  than  that  of  recording 
each  night  the  thoughts  and  deeds  of  the  vanished  day, 
The  duty,  however,  should  be  conscientiously  performed. 
This  disciplinary  tendency  is  in  the  process  itself  independ- 
ent of  the  record's  value.  It  often  happens  that  the  de- 
mancU  of  daily  life  present  themselves  with  such  tumultu- 
ous rapidity,  and  in  such  perplexing  confusion,  that  the 
great  reviewer,  Conscience,  does  not  always  have  time  to 
subject  each  act  to  a  sufficiently  scrutinizing  examination. 
And  many  of  them  get  a  favorable  verdict  by  demanding 
a  haste  that  conceals  their  deformities.  But  when,  at  the 
close  of  day — that  hour  which  seems  to  offer  most  leisure 
for  the  solution  of  life's  problems — we  sit,  calmly  reviewing 
our  deeds  in  the  order  of  their  occurrence,  and  in  all  their 
inter-relations,  then  it  often  happens  that  Conscience 
finds  occasion  to  revoke  its  decision,  and  to  pass  a  severer 
verdict.  Again,  the  aid  in  the  cultivation  of  memory 
which  the  practice  offers  is  by  no  means  insignificant,  since 
it  especially  cultivates  that  power  of  memory  in  which 
nearly  all,  particularly  Americans,  are  deficient,  viz.,  the 
power  to  reproduce  impressions  in  the  order  in  which  they 
occurred.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  form  of  memory 
is  the  most  useful  of  all.  That  form  of  memory  which 
enables  one  to  reproduce  a  few  disjointed  links  in  a  chain 


of  t  although  it  may  ice  a  great  many  of 

L,  can  seldom  be  of  great  service  to  its  possessor, 
lection   of  past   events   is  valuable  to   us  only  as  it 
en. ililes  us   to  recognize   the   relation  of  the  recollected 
t*.     Hence  the  value  of  that  form  of  memory  that  can 
recollect  them  in  their  sequential  order. 

Now  the  reader  will  demand  no  proof  of  the  asser 
that  there  are  no  means  by  which  this  form  of  memory  can 
be  so  quickly  and  thoroughly  acquired  as  by  thi- 
ef recalling  each  night  the  experiences  of  the  day  in 
chronological  order.     The   talent  for  public  speaking,  so 
highly  prized  by  all  young  men,  but  possessed  by  ft 
almost   wholly   conferred   by    this   power   of  consecutive 
memory.     Those  who  possess  it  are  enabled  not  only  to 
reproduce  the  thoughts  gathered  in  the  process  of  prepara- 
tion, but  to  reproduce  them  in  their  order,  one  thought 
suggesting  the  next,  and  thus  enabling  the  speaker  to  dis- 
pense with  notes. 

We  cannot  too  strongly  urge  the  practice  of  keeping  a 
journal.  We  have  dwelt  thus  at  length  upon  the  subject 
on  account  of  the  importance  which  we  believe  it  pos- 
sesses, and  because  it  affords  the  best  possible  assistance  in 
carrying  out  the  chief  injunction  of  this  chapter,  viz., 
that  each  individual  should  govern  himself  by  laws,  max- 
ims, and  resolutions  of  his  own  authorship. 

We  would  recommend,  not  only  the  practice  of  record- 
ing, in  the  evening,  the  thoughts,  deeds,  and  events  of  the 


INDIVIDUAL  RULES  OF  LIFE.  173 

day,  but  also  of  recording,  in  the  morning,  that  wliich  we 
intend  to  accomplish  during  the  day.  This  practice  offers 
a  threefold  advantage.  First,  it  enables  us  to  govern  our- 
selves through  the  day  by  the  laws  which  we  enact  in  our 
better  moods  ;  second,  it  leads  us  to  set  a  high  price  upon 
time,  and  to  cultivate  a  habit  of  punctuality  and  method ; 
third,  when  we  have  written  the  record  at  evening  just 
under  the  promise  of  the  morning,  and  the  divine  con- 
science within  us  utters  in  our  spirit's  ear  the  comments 
that  seem  fittest,  we  may  be  gazing  upon  one  of  the  most 
significant  lessons  of  life.  For  it  is  a  lesson  symbolic  of 
the  close  of  many  a  life ;  a  dark  and  colorless  evening  in 
sad  contrast  with  the  brilliant  hues  and  gaudy  beauty  of 
youth's  morning.  The  practice  can  have  but  one  ten- 
dency, and  that  is  to  make  these  two  records  more  closely 
agree. 

The  journal  or  diary  is  the  best  and  most  convenient 
place  in  which  to  record  those  maxims  and  resolutions,  the 
wisdom  and  necessity  of  which  we  have  so  strongly  urged. 
As  fast  as  you  discover  under  what  particular  regulations 
and  circumstances  a  given  function  of  your  life  is  most  ad- 
vantageously performed,  make  these  regulations  and  cir- 
cumstances the  theme  of  a  resolution  or  a  maxim,  and  re- 
cord it  in  your  diary,  to  become  a  law  of  your  life.  In 
this  way  you  will  eliminate  the  evil  and  conserve  the  good 
in  your  experience.  You  will  grow  wiser  and  better,  and 
in  the  end,  it  is  possible  that  your  list  of  resolutions  may 


virtue.      This,  I 

,,ul   of  1.  ••»'•  » 

measured. 

"  Count  lift  by  rirtoM;  thett  will  laat 

When  life's  lame,  foiled  net  b 
And  these,  when  earthly  joys  are  past, 
Shall  cheer  us  on  a  brighter  shore." 


I       CORRESPONDENCE. 


( is  probably  no  one   accomplishment 

that  reveals  so  much  of  human  character  as 
that  of  correspondence.  All  are  familiar  with 
the  fact  that  experts  are  able  from  the  hand- 
-'  writing  alone  to  give  the  prominent  features 
of  a  person's  character,  and  in  cases  of 
suspected  forgery  the  uniformity  of  hand- 
writing is  allowed  as  evidence  in  the  courts. 
But  much  as  is  revealed  by  the  manner  in 
which  we  write,  still  more  is  revealed  by 
the  nature  of  that  which  is  written, — not 
only  the  general  merit  of  the  composition, 
but  the  thoughts  and  sentiments  expressed, 
the  delicacy  and  propriety  with  which  they 
are  expressed,  the  neatness  of  the  written 
page,  the  orthography  and  the  grammar, 
Then  there  is  a  certain  air  that  impresses 
us  that  comes  under  none  of  these  headst 
too  subtile  to  be  reduced  to  a  definition, 
more  ethereal  than  the  perfume  of  a  tropic 
morning,  but  which  stamps  the  product  unmistakably  as 
the  wcrl:  of  a  noble  soul.  This  indefinable  something 


OUR  n<> 

trail.*-:  .no    into 

s  th.it   please,  iin-1 

•.vith  a  M  hich  we  delight 

•ilarship,  eu!  .  and  inborn  nobilit;. 

j'iriiously  as  in  the  I 
spondence.     While  general  culture  of  th- 
IB  necessary  to  the  acquirement  of  this  accomplish: 
the  only  specific  means  to  be  emj  the  study  of  the 

best  models.     Advantage  should  be  taken  of  the  imi: 
tendency  of  little  children,  and  accordingly  all  the  best  cor- 
respondence of  tli  >  should  be  read  repeatedly  to  the 
children.     They  will  always  \>e  interested  in  a  If 

Aunt or  Cousin ,  and  if  the  letter  is  a  £•  <»\  i: 

it  should  be  read  and  re-read  in  the  presence  of  the  child  till 

he  begins  to  catch  the  phraseology.     The  b» 

the  father's   business  correspondence   may  be  c< 

to  memory  by  the  children.     Tnese  forms  once  fixed  in 

their  minds  will  leave  their  influence  long  years  after  the 

words  of  the  model  are  forgotten. 

The  particular  examples  and  problems  we  solved  in  our 
school  days  are  all  forgotten,  but  they  have  left  something 
in  our  minds  of  which  we  inakt-  use  every  day.  So  in 
regard  to  these  models  in  (  Icnce.  It  is  not  so 

much  the  mechanical   form   of  the  written  pa^--  to  v 
we  would  call  the  attention  of  the  young  reader,  as  to  that 
intellectual  ideal  to  v  uly  of  the  mod 


CORRESPONDENCE.  177 

rise,  and  which  embraces  not  only  the  mechanical  form, 
but  all  the  qualities  that  go  to  make  it  a  finished  product 
of  the  individual  mind. 

We  have  tried  to  select  such  models  as  in  themselves 
convey  valuable  suggestions  and  information  on  the  gen- 
eral theme  of  correspondence. 

The  one  great  error  into  which  most  young  people  fall 
in  the  matter  of  correspondence  is  the  idea  that  to  write  a 
letter  is  to  perform  a  literary  feat. 

When  a  child  writes  his  first  letter  to  his  cousin  or  ab- 
sent friend,  he  usually  makes  a  day's  work  of  it  even  with 
mother's  suggestions,  while  if  that  cousin  or  friend  were  to 
visit  him,  he  would  not  only  find  no  difficulty  in  prattling 
all  day,  but  would  probably  much  prefer  to  dispense  with 
his  mother's  suggestions. 

In  the  following  letter  from  the  Hon.  Wm.  Wirt  to  his 
daughter,  mark  how  charmingly  natural  and  simple  his 
language.  It  seems  almost  impossible  that  such  should 
have  been  written.  It  seems  more  like  a  verbatim  report 
of  a  fireside  conversation. 

BALTIMORE,  April  18,  1882. 
MY  DEAR  CHILD: — 

You  wrote  me  a  dutiful  letter,  equally  honorable  to  your  head 
and  heart,  for  which  I  thank  you,  and  when  I  grow  to  be  a 
light-hearted,  light-headed,  happy,  thoughtless  young  girl,  I 
will  give  you  a  quid  pro  quo.  As  it  is,  you  must  take  such  a 
letter  as  a  man  of  sense  can  write,  although  it  has  been  re- 
marked, that  the  more  sensible  the  manj  the  more  dull  his  letter. 


178 

•  ask  m< 

•ssoii,  in  theVira:  Sanconiathon,  Mai 

and  Berosua. 

s  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  card  of  impressions  from  the 
pencil  seals,  vrhkh  I  i;  close  last  mail,  f 

your  mot!  !.<>!    In  r  re.     These  ar< 

best  I  can  find  in  IJaltimore.      I  hav-  them  according  to 

my   taste  ;    l.ut    exercise  your  own  and  choose  for 

•>elf,  if  either  <>f  them  please  you. 

Shall  I  bring  you  a  Spanish  guitar  of  Giles'  choosing? 
you  be  certain  that  you  will  stick  t<>  it  ?     And  some  mu.- 

;ish  guitar?     What  say  you? 

There  are  three  necklaces  that  tempt  me — a  beautiful  mock 
:ld,  a  still  more  beautiful   mock   ruby   with  pearls,  and  a 
still  most  beautiful  of  real  topaz, — what  say  you? 

Will  you  have  either  of  the  scans  described  to  your  nu •: 
and  which — the  blue  or  the  black  ?     They  are  very  fashionable 
and   beautiful.     Any  of  those  wreaths  and  flowers?     Consult 
your  dear  mother;    always  consult   her,  always  res 
This  is  the  only  way  to  make  yourself  respectable  and  ]• 
God  bless  you,  and  make  you  h:i 

^Your  affectionate  fatli 

WILLIAM  wnrr. 

Tins  quality  of  simplicity  is  the  cliiof  virtue  of  the  fam- 
ily letter  and  the  letter  of  friendship.     In 
sary  to  observe  but  one  principal  rule,  viz.,  write  ji; 
you  would  talk  if  the  person  to  whom  you  write  \vc 
your  side.     In  a  letter  to  mother  or  father,  is  no 
display  your  literary  skill   by  the   f. 
words  and  high-sound  in  -.     When  the  letters  of 


CORRESPONDENCE.  179 

brothers  and  sisters  become  essays,  be  assured  that  their 
heart  relations  are  not  what  they  should  be.  The  vocabu- 
laries of  affection  are  not  compiled  from  the  glossaries  of 
science  and  philosophy. 

When  you  write  to  a  friend  put  yourself  into  the  letter. 
He  does  not  wish  you  to  instruct  him.  It  isn't  what  you 
say,  but  yourself  that  he  desires.  Except  that  of  business, 
the  one  object  of  all  correspondence  is  to  serve  as  a  substi- 
tute for  that  interblending  of  personalities  which  is  the  ex- 
cuse and  philosophy  of  society.  It  is  a  miserable  substitute 
at  best,  and  fulfills  its  office  badly  enough  even  when  we 
put  all  of  ourselves  into  it  that  we  can.  It  is  not  egotism 
to  talk  about  yourself  in  a  letter  of  friendship,  for  if  youi 
friend  is  not  interested  in  you,  he  is  not  your  friend. 

The  following  is  from  a  young  man  in  college  to  his 
mother.  It  does  not  contain  a  single  allusion  to  Calculus, 
nor  are  there  any  Latin  quotations  in  it. 

COLLEGE,  Tuesday  evening. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHEB: — 

Though  I  am  now  sitting  with  my  back  toward  you,  yet  I 
love  you  none  the  less  ;  and  what  is  quite  as  strange,  I  can  see 
you  just  as  plainly  as  if  I  stood  peeping  in  upon  you.  I  can 
see  you  all  just  as  you  sit  around  the  table.  Tell  me  if  I  do  not 
see  you  ? 

There  is  mother  on  the  right  of  the  table  with  her  knitting, 
and  a  book  open  before  her  ;  and  anon  she  glances  her  eye  from 
the  work  on  the  paper  to  that  on  her  needles  ;  now  counts  the 
stitches,  and  then  puts  her  eye  on  the  book  and  then  starts  off 


L80 

on  an  There  is  Mar 

:  tli<-n  |toj  ;     .      !  ! 

a  lift  in  th<ir  lessons — trying  to  ii. 
of  geography.     She  i* 

. 

mark,  ami  lip,  or  scrat  -co  if 

the  algebraic  expression  may  not  lin 
places.     George  is  in  the  kitchen  tinkering  his  skat- 
triving  a  trap  for  that  old  offei;  rat,  whose  cu: 

:ig  brought  inortitication  upon  all  his  boastings,     i 

i.is  hammer  and  his  whistle — that  peculiar  s;: 

'.o  which   indicates  a  puzzl* 

liam  and  Henry  are  in  bed,  and  if  you  will  step  to  the  bedroom 
door  you  will  barely  hear  them 

'•d  and  is  absent  and  thoughtful,  and  m\ 
is  thinking  of  her  only  absent  child. 

i  have  been  ev.-n  kinder  than  I  expected  or  you  pron. 
I  did  not  expect  to  hear  from  you  till  to-morrow,  at  earliest, 
but  as  I  was  walking  to-day,  one  of  my  classmates  < 
bundle  for  you  at  the  stage  office  !  "     I  was  soon  in  my  room 
with  it.     Out  came  my  knife,  and,  forgetting  all  your  good  ad- 
vice about  "strings  and  fragi:  .«•  bundle  soon  Oj 

ry  heart  to  me  ;  and  it  proved  a  warm  heart,  too,  for 

the  stockings — they  are  on  my  feet  now,  that  is,  one  pair 
of  them, — and  there  were  the  flannels,  ami  the  bosoms,  and  the 
gloves,  and  the  pin-cushion  from  Louise,  ami  the  needle-book 
from  Sarah,  and  the  paper  from  Mary,  and  the  K-tters  and  love 
from  all  of  you.  Thanks  to  you  all  for  the  bundle,  letters  and 
love.  One  corner  of  my  eye  is  now  moistened  while  I  say, 
"  Thanks  to  ye  all,  gudc  folks."  I  must  not  furir<  t  t 
the  apples — "  the  six  applet  tiful 

little  loaf  of  cake.     The  apples  I  have  smelled  of,  am1 
nibbled  a  little,  and  pronounced  it  to  be  in  the  finest  taste. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  181 

Now  a  word  about  your  letters.  I  cannot  say  much,  for  1 
have  only  read  mother's  three  times  and  Mary's  twice.  I  am 
glad  the  spectacles  fitted  mother's  eyes  so  well.  You  wonder 
how  I  hit  it.  Why,  have  I  not  been  told  from  babyhood  that  I 
have  my  mother's  eyes  ?  Now,  if  I  have  mother's  eyes,  what  is 
plainer  than  that  I  can  pick  out  glasses  that  will  suit  them? 
I  am  glad,  too,  that  the  new  book  is  a  favorite. 

I  suppose  the  pond  is  all  frozen  over,  and  the  skating 
good.  I  know  it  is  foolish  ;  but  if  mother  and  Mary  had 
skated  as  many  "  moony  "  nights  as  I  have,  they  would  sigh, 
not  at  the  thought,  but  at  the  fact  that  my  skating  days  are 
over. 

I  am  warm,  well  and  comfortable.  We  all  study,  and  dull 
fellows,  like  myself,  have  to  confess  that  they  study  hard.  We 
have  no  genius  to  help  us.  My  chum  is  a  good  fellow.  He 
now  sits  in  yonder  corner,  his  feet  poised  upon  the  stove  in 
such  a  way  that  the  dullness  seems  to  have  all  run  out  of  his 
heels  into  his  head,  for  he  is  fast  asleep. 

I  have  got  it  framed,  and  there  it  hangs — the  picture  of  my 
father!  I  never  look  up  without  seeing  it,  and  I  never  see  it 
without  thinking  that  my  mother  is  a  widow  and  that  I  am  her 
eldest  son.  What  more  I  think  I  will  not  be  fool  enough  to 
say — you  will  imagine  better  than  I  can  say  it. 

I  need  not  say  write,  for  I  know  that  you  will.  Love  to  you 
all,  and  much  too.  Your  affectionate  son, 

HERBERT. 

LORD  CHESTERFIELD   TO   HIS   SON. 

DEAR  BOY: — 

Your  letters,  except  when  upon  a  given  subject,  are  exceed- 
ingly laconic,  and  neither  answer  my  desires  nor  the  purpose  of 
letters;  which  should  be  familiar  conversations  between  absent 
friends.  As  I  desire  to  live  with  you  upon  the  footing  of  an 


is-  OURIK 

intimate  friend,  and  not  of  a  pa 

ten  gftvo  me  more  particular  a< 

lesser  transactions     Wh- n  you  write  to  me,  suppose  y«> 

conversing  freely  with  me,  In  that  ca» 

1  natural.  day,  as  ^ 

bad  been,  whom  you  had  seen,  what  you  though- 
Do  this  in  your  letters:  acquaint  mo  sometimes  with  your  stud 
ies,  sometimes  with  your  .1.  tell  mo  of  at 

haractere  that  you  meet  with  in  comj 
own  observations  upon  them;  in  short,  let  me  see  more  <<: 
in  your  let  • 

How  do  you  go  on  with  Lord  Multeney;  and  how  docs  he  go 
on  at  Leipzig?     Has  ho  learning,  has  he  parts,  has  he  aj 
tion?     Is  he  good  or  ill-natured?     In  short,  what  is  he  ?     Ai 
least,  what  do  you  think  of  hi  t  may  tell  i. 

reserve,  for  I  promise  seer- 

You  are  now  of  an  ago  that  I  am  desirous  of  beginning  a 

rial  correspondence  with  you,  and,  as  I  shall.  part, 

write  you  very  freely  my  opinion  upon  men  and  things,  which  I 
should  often  be  very  unwilling  that  anybody  but  you  or  Mr. 

so,  on  your  part,  if  you  write  me  withe 
may  depend  upon  my  inviolable  secrecy.     If  you  have 
ever  looked  into  the  letters  of  Madame  De  Sevigne  to  her  daugh* 
iadame  De  Grignan,  you  must  have  observed  the  ease,  free- 
friendship  of  that  correspondence;  and  yet  I  hope,  and 
belit-ve,  that  they  did  not  love  one  another  better  than  we  do. 
Tell  me   what  hooks  you  aro  now  reading,   either  by  way  of 
study  or  amusement;   how   you  pass  your  evenings   when  at 
home,  and  where  you  pass  them  when  abroad. 


The  foregoing  letters  in  tin  contain  a  whole 

ume  on  the  subject  of  c< 


CORRESPONDENCE.  183 

little  to  be  said  as  to  what  a  family  letter  should  be.  We 
will,  however,  add  one  more,  a  genuine  love-letter  in  dis- 
guise written  by  Doctor  Franklin.  There  is  nothing  in  the 
nature  of  a  love-letter,  however,  that  renders  necessary  any 
different  suggestions  from  those  we  have  already  given 
under  letters  of  friendship.  We  have  said  there  that  it  is 
yourself,  more  that  what  you  say,  that  your  friend  desires, 
and  in  the  case  of  love-letters  the  same  is  especially  true, 
and  perhaps  in  a  more  literal  sense.  Some  of  our  senti- 
mental readers  may  perhaps  be  a  little  disappointed  after 
reading  the  following  letter,  and  may  possibly  blame  us, 
and  accuse  us  of  malicious  intent  to  dash  their  expecta- 
tions. But  if  the  letter  does  not  fall  under  their  definition 
of  a  love-letter,  the  fault  is  doubtless  one  of  age,  and  not 
of  natural  judgment. 

DK.  FRANKLIN   TO   HIS   WIFE. 

MY  DEAR  CHILD: — 

I  wrote  you,  a  few  days  since,  by  a  special  messenger,  and 
inclosed  letters  for  all  our  wives  and  sweethearts,  expecting1  to 
hear  from  you  by  his  return,  and  to  have  the  northern  news- 
papers and  English  letters  per  the  packet;  but  he  is  just  now 
returned  without  a  scrap  for  poor  us;  so  I  had  a  good  mind  not 
to  write  to  you  by  this  opportunity;  but  I  can  never  be  ill- 
natured  enough,  even  when  there  is  the  most  occasion.  The 
messenger  says  he  left  the  letters  at  your  house,  and  saw  you 
afterwards  at  Mr.  Duche's,  and  told  you  when  he  would  go,  and 
that  he  lodged  at  Honey's,  next  door  to  you,  and  yet  you  did 
not  write;  so  let  Goody  Smith  give  one  more  just  judgment, 


!  you 
that  w«  are  all  v  we  oxp« 

r  will  I  scud  you  a  word  of  news — that 's 

.•r,  love  to  children,  and  to  Miss  Betsey,  and 
Grac»  i  your  le*ing  husband, 

a  FRANKLIN, 

<•  scratched  out  the  loving  words,  being  wr 
haste  by  mistake,  when  I  forgot  I  was  angry. 

There  is  another  class  of  co:  requires 

the  observance  of  a  very  difL  -s  of  rules  from  those 

already  given.  We  refer  to  business  correspondence.  In 
writing  a  business  letter  we  should  bear  in  mind  that  the 
person  addressed  cares  only  f<>r  what  ,  e.  to  say. 

not  for  ourselves  :  in  this  respect  ex  .e.  reverse 

of  a  family  letter  or  a  letter  of  friendship.  This  is  why 
the  chief  \irtu3  of  a 

son  who  is  to  read  it  desires  to  Irani  what  you  have  to  say 
.ibmit  your  business  as  quickly  as  possible,  in  ord- 
it  be  related  in  any  way  with  his  own,  he  may  discharge 
the  obligation  arising  from  that  relation,  and  lose  no  time. 
The  Anglo  Saxon  /•/*///  is  the  word  from  which  are  derived 
both  business  and  busy,  so  that  the  business  man  is 
posed  to  be  a  In;-  :  hence  he  has  no  time 

political  arguments,  nor  to  c<. 
the  "Trinit; 

It  is  true  that   business  relations  may  ex 
friends,  and  they  may  feel  like  expressing  this  in  their 


CORRESPONDENCE.  185 

business  letters,  but  if  they  do  so,  the  letter,  to  that  extent 
departs  from  the  nature  of  a  business  letter  and  becomes 
one  of  friendship.  In  this  case,  it  is  proper,  of  course,  that 
the  letter  should  be  a  mixed  one,  for  wherever  friend- 
ship exists  it  is  the  prerogative  of  the  parties  concerned 
alone,  to  say  when  and  under  what  circumstances  that 
friendship  shall  be  expressed. 

In  letters  of  this  kind,  it  is,  as  a  rule,  preferable  to  de- 
vote the  first  part  of  the  letter  to  the  business,  and  the 
latter  part  to  the  interests  of  friendship;  but  of  course 
circumstances  and  the  relative  weight  of  the  two  interests 
must  determine  this  matter  in  the  mind  of  the  writer. 

The  requirements  of  a  business  letter  are  well  met  in  the 
following  model : — 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL.,  Dec.  29,  1882. 

EDITORS  SPRINGFIELD  EEPUBLICAN: 

G&niUmen: — Enclosed  find  nine  dollars  ($9.00),  for  which 
please  send  me,  the  coming  year,  your  widely  known  and  valu- 
able publication,  The  Springfield  Republican  (daily  editiui.), 
and  oblige,  Yours  respectfully, 

P.  O.  box  1937.  CLARA  M.  SHELDON. 

It  very  frequently  happens  that  the  members  of  the  fam- 
ily are  called  upon  to  write,  or  to  reply  to  what  are  called 
letters  of  invitation. 

The  following  models  will  sho\v  the  form  which  custom 

O 

has  sanctioned  :— 


i  *•; 

Mr.  .-i!i  1    Mrs.  Cogswell   request  the    favor  of 

-  company  at  dinner  "ti  Thursday,  January  21,  at  5  o'clock. 

n:  IN  vi  . 

Mr.  and   Mrs.  (Jile,  with  much   pleasure,  accept   Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cogswell's  kind  invitation  fur  the  '..'1st  of  Janua 

THE  INVITATION   DBCLXNi:: 

Mr.  mid  Mrs.  Gile  regret  that  the  condition  of  Mrs.  <  r 
health  will  not  permit  them  to  accept  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cogs 
invitation  to  dinner  for  January  21st. 

Of  course  the  phraseology  need  not  conform  exactly  to 
th;it  of  the  above  models.     The  only  uniform  charac 
are  a  business-like  b:  limiting  nothing  f<>: 

to  the  subject,  and  that  they  be  written  in  the  thirl 

Notice  that  the  invitation  does  not  r» 
your  company,  etc."     It  may  be  true,  however,  that 
mon  sense  can  assign  no  valid  reason  why  the  third  \ 
should  be  used.     But  since  the  affectation  of  fashi«>: 

•y  has  established  the  custom,  it  is  well  for  US  1 
form  to  the  same,  especially  since  conformity  or  no;, 
formity  is  not  a  question  of  conscience. 

'•per  in  this  connection  to  give  a  few  of  t 
forms  pertaining  to  the  various  kinds  of  business  and  com- 

ial  transactions  which  necessarily  c<> 
nificant  element  in  the  education,  not  onl 
man,  but  of  all  who  successfully  deal  with  their  fellow 
And  rfnce  the  home  is  the  school  in  which  chil 


CORRESPONDENCE.  187 

supposed  to  receive  in  a  large  degree  their  education  in 
all  that  pertains  to  life  and  its  relations,  a  work  de- 
voted to  the  home  life  would  hardly  seem  complete  with- 
out, at  least,  a  brief  consideration  of  the  formulas  of 
business. 

The  following  forms  embrace  all  of  importance  that  the 
business  man,  whether  farmer,  mechanic  or  merchant,  un- 
der ordinary  circumstances  will  be  called  upon  to  use : — 

PROMISSORY  NOTE   ON  DEMAND  WITH   INTEREST. 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.,  Feb.  1,  1883. 
$225.50. 

On  demand,  I  promise  to  pay  H.  J.  Bennett,  or  order,  two 
hundred  and  twenty-five  -fifo  dollars,  value  received. 

O.  T.  THORNTON. 

PROMISSORY  NOTE  WITHOUT  INTEREST. 

BARNSTEAD,  N.  H.,  Nov.  8,  1883. 
$19.80. 

Four  months  after  date,  I  promise  to  pay  Frank  C.  Cole,  or 
order,  nineteen  fifo  dollars  value  received. 

JOSEPH  A.  MARSTON. 

PROMISSORY  NOTE  NEGOTIABLE. 

LEWIS-TON,  ME.,  March  3,  1883. 
$420.00. 

Sixty  days  after  date,  for  value  received,  I  promise  to  pay 
Everett  Remick,  or  order,  four  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  with 
interest  from  date. 

H.  W.  COGSWELL. 


Bos  ION,  MASS.,  Jun. 

l-'.-r  value  received,  I  promise  to  pay  Toorin  II.  Harvey,  on 
demand,  seven  huixlr-  «l  ami  mm  ty  dollars. 

WILLIAM  .i.  Mi-;i:i:iM. 

Notice  in   tlie  above   tlio   omission   of  the   phrase- 
order.  " 

JOINT 

CnicopBB,  MASS.,  Aug.  6,  1882. 
$75.00. 

Thirty  days  after  date,  we  promise  to  pay  John  Shaw, 

seventy-live  dollars,  value  received. 

TRUE  L.  PKHKIN 

r  H.  SAK<;K.\T. 

JOINT  AND  SEVERAL  NOTE. 

ATIIOL,  MASS.,  Nov.  22,  1882. 
1300.00. 

Valuo  received,  on  demand  we,  either  or  both,  promise  to  pay 
Charles  L.  Sheldon,  or  order,  three  hundred  dollars  with  interest. 

O.  T.  MAXKIKU). 
TRUE  B.  JOHNSON. 

The  above  note  might,  of  course,  have  any  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  others.  That  is,  it  might  be  with  <>r  with- 
out interest,  on  demand  or  after  a  stated  period,  negotiable- 
or  not  negotiable. 

There  is  a  modification  of  the  joint  and  several  note, 
called  principal  and  surety  note,  like  the  following : — 


CORRESPONDENCE.  ISO 

CHICHESTEE,  N.  H.,  July  9,  1882. 
$320.00. 

Ninety  days  after  date,  for  value  received,  I  promise  to  pay 
Charles  J.  Carpenter,  or  order,  three  hundred  and  twenty  dol- 
lars, with  interest  from  date. 

F.  CABIN  LANE,  Principal 
D.  K.  FOSTER,  Surety. 

The  purpose  of  this  note  is  more  frequently  met  by  the 
endorsement  of  the  surety.  That  is,  the  principal  signs 
his  name  in  the  usual  manner,  and  the  surety  endorses  the 
note  by  writing  his  name  upon  the  back  of  it.  In  this 
case  he  does  not  sign  the  note  with  the  principal.  The 
endorser  must  be  notified  when  the  note  becomes  due, 
otherwise  he  cannot  be  held  responsible  for  its  payment. 

CHATTEL  NOTE. 

BANGOR,  ME.,  Jan.  10,  1883. 
$900.00. 

For  value  received,  I  promise  to  pay  F.  E.  Perhan  &  Co., 
or  order,  nine  hundred  dollars  in  ship  masts,  to  be  delivered  at 
Portland  during  the  month  of  March,  1883. 

JOSEPH  ELY. 

DRAFT — TIME  FROM   SIGHT. 

WELLS,  ME.,  Aug.  2,  1882. 
1400.00. 

At  ten  days  sight,  pay  to  Joshua  Hatch,  or  order,  four  hun- 
dred dollars,  value  received,  and  charge  to  account  of 

J.  G.  BLAISDELL. 
To  P,  D.  BELCHER, 

Wells,  Me. 


IM 

-AT  8K. 

ll«.i  -,  t KM.,  June  2,  1882. 

00. 

At  sight,  pay  to  Eben  Clark,  or  order,  one  hundred  and  forty 
ira,  value  received,  and  charge  to  account  of 

II.  < 
T.I  \V.  GL  Kixo  ACo., 

uglield,  Mass. 

DUE  BILL — CASH. 

AUGUSTA,  ME.,  May  4,  1882. 
$25.00. 

Due  Frank  II.  Sanborn,  on  demand,  twenty-five  dollars 

interest  from  date. 

J.  W.  HODGDON. 

DUE  BILL — MERCHANDISE. 

BOWDOIN,  MK.,  April  30,  1882. 
$60.00. 

Due  II.  H.  Tucker,  or  order,  sixty  dollars,  payable  in  < 
seed  at  the  market  price  on  the  first  day  of  July,  1882. 

W.  H.  WALK  Kit. 

BANK  CHECK. 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.,  Jan.  3,  1883. 
$700.40. 

CITY  NATIONAL  BANK. 

Pay  to  the  order  of  J.  W.  Holton,  seven  hundred  -^  dollars. 

No. 

W.  C.  KING  &  Co. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  191 

BECEIPT   IN  FULL   OF  ALL   DEMANDS. 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.,  Feb.  1,  1883. 
$48.60. 

Received  of  W.  C.  King  &  Co.,  forty-eight  -j^  dollars  in  full 
of  all  demands  to  this  date. 

W.  H.  HOLTON. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  one  business  form  which  the  common 
people  are  so  often  called  upon  to  use,  nor  one  in  which 
there  are  so  many  ludicrous  errors  committed  as  the  simple 
form  pertaining  to  indebtedness  for  ordinary  services.  How 
few  matrons  are  able  to  present  in  proper  form,  a  simple 
board  bill.  The  following  is  the  proper  form  for  a  bill  of  in- 
debtedness for  rent: — 

ALTON,  N.  H.,  July  9, 1883. 
MRS.  MART  N.  P.  MATHEWS, 

To  MRS.  ALMIRA  SARGENT,  Dr. 
To  four  months  rent  ending  July  11, 1882,  @  $11.00,       $44.00. 

Received  payment, 

MRS.  ALMIRA  SARGENT. 

The  above  form  is  applicable  to  all  kinds  of  indebted- 
ness for  services  rendered.  In  case  some  article  or  com- 
modity represented  the  service,  the  name  of  that  article  or 
commodity  is  put  in  the  place  of  that  of  the  service,  and 
the  bill  otherwise  may  be  the  same. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  many  other  forms  pertaining  to 
business,  as  deeds,  mortgages,  bonds,  wills,  etc.,  etc.,  but 
the  occasions  which,  require  a  knowledge  of  these  are  so 


10 M  OUR  IK 

iratively  r;i 

to  the  lm>iness  i. 

pres>  -S  those 

foUl: 

But  u:  "f  important 

mere  mechanical  form  of  any  docun.-  habit  <• 

pressing  our   thouglits    in  writing,   with    naturalness 
grace,  whether  in  correspondence,  in  our  j 
in   the  formulas  of  business,   is  of   far    more  in.. 
This  most  desirable  of  all  accomplishments  comes  only  as 
the  reward  for  patient  and  tireless  prat; 

"  To  think  rightly  is  of  knowledge;  to  speak  fluently  U  of  nature: 
To  read  with  profit  is  with  rare;  but  to  write  aptly  is  of  practice. 
No  talent  among  men  bath  more  scholars  and  fewer  masters. 

And  nhouldst  tbon  ask  my  judgment  of  that  which  hath  most  profit  in  the  world. 
For  answer  take  thou  this;  the  prudent  penning  of  a  1 

"  Thon  hast  not  lost  an  bonr  whereof  there  is  a  record, 
A  written  thought  at  midnight  shall  redeem  the  livelong  day. 
Idea  U  a  shadow  that  departetb,  speech  U  fleeting  as  the  wind, 
Beading  is  an  unremembered  pastime;  bnt  a  writing  is  eternal. ** 


MANNERS   AT   HOME. 


ANNERS  constitute  the  natural  language  in 
which  the  biography  of  every  man  is  written. 
They  are  the  necessary  and  unconscious  ex- 
pression of  our  lives  and  characters. 

Politeness  in  its  essence  is  always  the  same. 
The  mere  rules  of  etiquette  may  vary  with 
time  and  place,  but  these  are  only  different 
modes  of  expressing  the  principle  of  polite- 
ness within  us. 

Politeness  does  not  consist  in  any  system 
of  rules,  nor  in  arbitrary  forms,  but  it  has  a 
real  existence  in  the  instincts  of  men  and  wo- 
men. The  ever  changing  conditions  and  cir- 
cumstances of  social  life  may  necessitate  modifications  in 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people,  and  these  modi- 
fications may  and  do  extend  to  the  domestic  circle.  Yet 
the  principle  of  our  nature  in  which  the  manners,  customs, 
and  rules  of  etiquette  all  had  their  origin,  is  permanent 
and  unchangeable.  All  the  various  rules  of  etiquette  for 
the  government  of  society  are  but  notes  and  commentaries 
on  the  one  great  rule,  "  Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 

13 


IN 

has  truthful'. 

thing  else  connected   with  t! 
are  too  apt  to  b< 

:  and  trusting  to 

to  form  tin-  manners.  1  '<•;„' in  with  the  manners 

leave  the  hea  and  inilucn  rulo 

id  soul  of  politeness:    ' 
;s  as  ye  would  that  they  should  do  11; 
children  and  youth  arc  taught,  l.y  precept  air 
abhor  what  is  selfish,  and  prefer  another's  pie;: 
comfort  to  tl.  :r  politeness  will  be 

fiuial,  and    used   only   when    interest 
True  politeness  is  perfect  freedom  ai; 
ers  just  as  you  love  to  be  treat    !.     Nature  is  alwn 
ful;  fashion,  with  all  her  art,  can  never  produce  anything 
half  so  pleasing.     The  very  perfection  of  elegance  is  to  imi- 
tate nature;  how  much  1  have  the  reality  tha: 
imitation.     Anxiety  about  the  opinions  of  others  f« 
the  freedom  of  nature  and  tei;  kwardncss;  all  v. 

•-•11  if  they  never  tried  to  assume  what  they  do  not 

possess." 

Says  the  author  of  "The  Illustra'  Book," 

"Every  denial  of  or  interference  with  <' 
dom  or  absolute  rights  of  another  is  a  violation  of  good 
manners.     The  basis  of  all  true  politeness  and  social  en- 
joyment is  the  mutual  tolerance  of  personal  rigli 

La  Bmyere  says,  "Politeness  seems  to  be  a  certain  < 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  195 

by  the  manner  of  our  words  and  actions,  to  make  other? 
pleased  with  us  and  themselves." 

Madame  Celnart  says,  "  The  grand  secret  of  never  failing 
propriety  of  deportment  is  to  have  an  intention  of  always 
doing  right." 

There  are  some  persons  who  possess  the  instinct  of 
courtesy  in  so  high  a  degree  that  they  seem  to  require  no 
instruction  or  practice  in  order  to  be  perfectly  polite,  easy, 
and  graceful.  But  most  people  require  instruction  and 
rules  as  to  the  best  and  most  appropriate  manner  of  ex. 
pressing  that  which  they  may  feel.  We  sometimes  find 
young  children  with  such  an  aptitude  for  speech  and  such 
a  command  of  language  that  their  grammar  is  absolutely 
faultless.  They  seem  to  have  an  instinctive  knowledge  of 
the  rules  of  grammar;  yet  most  children  without  grammat- 
ical instruction  are  prone  to  errors. 

Rules  of  etiquette  are  essential,  then,  but  far  less  so 
than  that  cultivation  of  heart  and  character,  to  which  all 
just  rules  of  etiquette  must  trace  their  origin. 

Personal  habits  claim  the  first  place  in  our  considera- 
tion of  home  manners ;  and  foremost  among  these  we 
would  place  cleanliness.  This  virtue  has  been  said  to  be 
akin  to  godliness,  and  surely  there  is  no  quality  in  a 
human  being  that  more  forcibly  suggests  ungodliness  than 
un  cleanliness.  An  unclean  person  is  an  object  of  disgust 
to  all  whom  he  meets.  Foulness  of  character  and  moral 
pollution  will  not  isolate  one  from  the  sympathy  of  his  fel- 


196 

,     more  !v    llian     physical     unc!< 

\\  urest 

-  a  foul  breath.     \\" 
but  our  love  will  necessarily  lose  a  1; 
anb  •  'cst  will  change  to  pity.     Hut  t:  .st  of 

our  ;  It  of  nn- 

B.     It  i  like 

sand  and  mud  thrown  i:  Is  and  Bearing  of  a 

'lino.       1  :  sons  of  unclean   hai 

died  of  old  age.     !'•  in  their  ol  i 

couie  '.eanly  in  co.  e  of  their  infir. 

but  during  their  younger  have  been  mod- 

erately Cv 

\N".-  wmild  not  advise  one  to  adopt  radical  views  on 
subject   and   take   a    daily  bath    through  life,  although  we 
doubt   if  such   a   course  would  injure  most  j 
would  probably  bo   unnecessary,  and  would  be  a  needless 

of  time.     A  full  bath  once  or  twice  a  week  is. 
.  all  that  is  necessary  to  escape  the  charge  of  1 
angodly  in  consequence  of  filth. 

>t  people  do  not  seem  to  consider  the  laws  of  c] 
-  as  applicable  to  the  head  and  hair.     Even  those  who 
'"an  in  other  respects  are  very  apt  to  neglect  the  hair. 
Man  who  have  long  and   thick  hair 

unaware   how  quickly  it  becomes   filthy 

ble  odor,  especially  if  it  be  while  i 

However  cleanly  the  :nay  be  in  other  respects,  the 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  197 

hair  will  necessarily  collect  much  dust  and  so  become  un- 
clean. No  father,  mother,  or  child  of  good  breeding  will 
allow  the  teeth  or  nails  to  become  unclean.  A  clean  mind 
cannot  dwell  in  an  unclean  body. 

Perhaps  in  proportion  to  the  population  there  are  at  the 
present  time  fewer  in  the  world  who  are  addicted  to  the 
disgusting  and  health-destroying  habit  of  smoking  and 
chewing  tobacco  than  in  the  days  of  our  grandfathers,  yet 
the  number  even  now  is  appalling.  Although  it  is  a  vice 
too  large  to  be  confined  within  any  circle  or  sphere  of  life, 
yet  it  may,  perhaps,  appropriately  be  considered  under  the 
head  of  home  manners. 

There  are  few,  if  any,  who  will  not  frankly  acknowledge 
that  tobacco  in  all  of  its  forms  is  an  unalloyed  evil,  and 
that  they  would  not  desire  their  children  to  become  ad- 
dicted to  its  use.  And  yet  the  most  effectual  way  to 
cause  their  children  to  use  it  certainly  is  to  use  it  in  their 
presence.  After  all  that  has  been  said  and  done  by  moral- 
ists and  philanthropists,  we  do  not  presume  to  be  able  to 
say  anything  that  shall  influence  the  acts  of  confirmed  to- 
bacco users,  but  if  we  may  be  able  to  give  them  a  few  hints 
by  which  they  shall  the  better  prevent  their  children  from 
falling  into  the  same  habit  we  shall  be  satisfied.  If  fathers 
will  persist  in  smoking  and  chewing  they  should  surely  try 
to  neutralize,  as  far  as  possible,  the  influence  of  their  ex- 
ample. This  is  a  dangerous  influence  at  best,  but  it  may 
be  rendered  more  or  less  so  according  to  the  desires  and 


196 

acts  of  the  fa ; 

i  ulCCO 

are  agreeable  to  them,  does  s 

vith  some  casual  jemark  :  the 

.      He  should  :ii:  the  implex: 

that  ho  would   k'ive  worlds  It   j.s 

possible  that  in   this    v. .iy   t.  de  a 

child,  for  thus  :  .16  to 

.  uth  tli.it    man   . 

and  that  it  is  d.mgerous  to  trillc  with  any  vice  lest  it  hind 
him  with  a  chain  of  i: 

!!-•  \\1.  he  is  at  home  he  in. 

he  chooses  and  throw  off  all  restraints  of  jo!it< 

.'.ly  finds  that  when  he  comes  to  put 

on  tl.  :id  it 

becomes  evident  that   the  harness  wasn't   made   for  him. 

tlu1  children  can  see  that  hi  :ely  urti' 

ficial  and  is  not   his  own.     Such  men  when  ti  occa- 

..ly  compelled  to  go  into  society  exj 

eml).  :iongh  to  outweigh   the  cost  of  being  de« 

corous  and  mannerly  at  home. 

If  parents  expect  their  children  to  be  I 

they  m,  b  them  good   manners.     The  world's 

fortress  that  has  stood  the  bombardment  of  many  a  i; 
has  fallen  under  the  more  subtle  force  of  go<.d  manners. 
There  is  no  way  to  teach  chil  .  rs  excel 

example.     It  is  an  art  that  cannot  be  taught  to  adva; 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  199 

theoretically.  The  tactics  of  courtesy  can  never  be  mas- 
tered without  field  practice.  If  husbands  are  not  courte- 
ous to  their  wives,  the  brothers  will  not  be  courteous  to 
their  sisters,  nor  when  they  in  turn  become  husbands  will 
they  be  courteous  to  their  wives.  Every  man  owes  to  his 
wife  and  to  his  daughter  at  least  the  same  considera- 
tions of  civility  and  politeness  that  he  owes  to  any  other 
women. 

From  the  "Home  and  Health"  we  copy  the  following 
valuable  rules  which  seem  to  be  so  perfectly  to  the  point 
that  we  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  appropriate  them  to 
our  purpose : — 

HOW  TO  BE  A   GOOD  HUSBAND. 

Honor  your  wife. 

Love  your  wife. 

Show  your  love. 

Suffer  for  your  wife  if  need  be. 

Study  to  keep  her  young. 

Consult  her. 

Help  to  bear  her  burdens. 

Be  thoughtful  of  her  always. 

Don't  command,  but  suggest. 

Seek  to  refine  your  own  nature. 

Be  a  gentleman  as  well  as  husband. 

Remember  the  past  experience  of  your  wife. 

Level  up  to  her  character. 

Stay  at  home  as  much  as  possible. 

Take  your  wife  with  you  often. 


: 

orenoe  your  husband. 
Lovo  him. 
Do  not  conceal  your  love  for  him. 

sake  all  for  him. 
Confide  in  him. 
Keep  his  love. 

Cultivate  tin-  moilr-1  'h. 

Cultivate  personal  attraetivem-ss. 

If  you  read   nothing  ami  make  no  effort  to  be  intelligent 
will  soon  sink  into  a  dull  block  of  stupM 
Cultivate  physical  attractiveness. 
Do  not  forget  the  power  of  inei.lenial  attentions. 
Make  your  horn- 

air  house  clean  ami  in  good  order. 
Preserve  sunshi: 
Study  your  husband's  charac: 
Cultivate  }•.'.  nature. 

is  a  wife. 

-k  to  secure  your  husband'!  happiness. 
Study  his  interest. 
Practice  frugality. 

To  toil  hard  for  bread,  to  fight  the  wolf  from  the  ,l.v>r,  to 
resist  impatient  creditors,  to  struggle  against  complaining-  prido 
at  home,  is  too  much  to  ask  of  one  man. 

Another   phase   of   home   manners  1  in  the 

attitude   of   children    toward    their    parents.      ^ 
children  have  not,  as  a  rule,  that  e  and  reverence 

for  their    parents    which    they    should    have.       From    tho 
author   of  "How  toBeh.m."    wr    quote    the    following 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  201 

forcible  description  of  the  characteristics  of  the  American 
Child  :- 

"  young  America  cannot  brook  restraint,  'las  no  concep- 
tion of  superiority,  and  reverences  nothing.  His  ideas  of 
equ&jity  admit  neither  limitation  nor  qualification.  Pie  is 
born  with  a  full  comprehension  of  his  oTvn  individual 
right*,  but  is  slow  in  learning  his  social  duties.  Through 
whose  fault  comes  this  state  of  things?  American  boys 
and  girls  have  naturally  as  much  good  sense  and  good 
nature  as  those  of  any  other  nation,  and  when  well  trained 
no  children  are  more  courteous  and  agreeable.  The  fault 
lies  in  their  education.  In  the  days  of  our  grandfathers, 
children  were  taught  manners  at  school,  a  rather  rude, 
backward  sort  of  manners,  it  is  true,  but  better  than  the 
no  manners  at  all  of  the  present  day.  We  must  blame  par- 
ents in  this  matter,  rather  than  their  children.  If  you 
would  have  your  children  grow  up  beloved  and  respected 
by  their  elders  as  well  as  their  contemporaries,  teach  them 
good  manners  in  their  childhood.  The  young  sovereign 
should  first  learn  to  obey,  that  he  may  be  the  better  fitted 
to  command  in  his  turn." 

He  who  does  not  love,  respect,  and  reverence  his  mother, 
is  a  boor,  whatever  his  pretentious  may  be.  He  who  can 
allow  any  other  woman  to  crowd  from  his  heart  the  love 
for  his  mother  does  not  deserve  the  affection  of  any 
woman. 

One  of  the  evil  habits  exhibited  for  the  most  part  at 


203  OUR  m 

home  is  that  known  as  "sulki  Th 

the  comfort  of  the  whole  family  fur  t; 
grows  stronger  with  age,  until  i; 
disposition   and  prospect   of  l..i; 

Oases  whrre    this   <i  a    to  sulk    1. 

bllrli  4x111    tin 

ually  objects  of  pity.     Wlu-n  the-  .sulky  child  goes  out   into 

I  with   1 

:itly    wait    until    his    sulks   hav.  ay  ;     l.ui 

:y   will  desert  him  and  leave  him  alone  in  his  1 
ness. 

But  the  opposite  condition  of  ;  •  be 

avoided  as  fatal  to  mil  earnestness  and  depth  of  character. 
As  a  rule,  the  ludicrous  is  seen  on  t  ,i--e  of  things, 

and  he  who  is  always  finding  something  to  excite  lau 
is  generally  of  a  superficial  mind.     The  deep  min 
apt  to  overlook  this  surface  coat.     It  is  true  t:  noth- 

ing so  good  for  the  health  of  body  or  mind  as  i 
ter,  and  he  who  cannot  appreciate  a  good  joke  shoiK 
yitied.     And  yet  the  excess  of  this  good  thing  does  s; 
indicate,    if  not    positive    weakness,    a    want    of   habitual 
action  in  the  more  serious  faculties  of  the  mind. 

supplement  this  chapter  with  the  following  rules  for 
the  government  of  conduct  in  society.     They  should  be 
read  and  re-read  by  the  members  of  the  family  till  the 
thoroughly  mastered,  as  the   student  would    master   the 
rules  of  grammar.     It  is  not  enough  to  read  th< 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  203 

would  read  a  novel,  from  mere  curiosity,  but  they  should 
be  studied  with  a  view  to  being  applied. 

So  much  has  been  written  on  the  subject  of  etiquette 
and  conduct  that  it  is  of  course  impossible  for  us  to  say 
anything  new.  The  most  we  have  attempted  is  to  recast 
and  adapt  to  the  special  needs  of  the  times  that  which  haj 
already  been  written. 

We  have  consulted  the  best  and  most  unquestionable 
authorities,  and  for  each  and  every  phase  of  life  have  tried 
to  give  a  few  rules  of  special  importance.  So  that  the  list 
itself  is  virtually  a  condensed  volume  on  the  subject  of 
etiquette,  no  vital  rule  of  conduct  being  omitted. 

The  golden  rule  is  the  embodiment  of  all  true  politeness. 

Always  allow  an  invalid,  an  elderly  person  or  a  lady  to 
occupy  the  most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room,  and  also 
to  accommodate  themselves  with  reference  to  light  and 
temperature. 

Never  make  the  weakness  or  misfortunes  of  another  the 
occasion  of  mirth  or  ridicule. 

Always  respect  a  social  inferior,  not  in  a  condescending 
way,  but  with  the  feeling  that  he  is  as  good  as  you. 

Never  answer  a  serious  question  in  jest,  nor  a  civil  ques- 
tion rudely. 

The  religious  opinions  of  all,  even  those  of  infidels, 
should  be  respected,  for  religious  tolerance  is  not  only  nec- 
essary to  good  manners,  but  is  a  cardinal  idea  in  the  doc- 
trine of  human  liberty. 


204 

gentleman  or  lady  is  alwa 

jicrson  of  re;il  worth  can  afford  to  he  unassumin 
i-s  will  assume  for  him. 
To  laugh  at  one's  own  jokes  will  tal 

tin-    ki-.-not    wit.      It    is  n«.t   neces>ary,  how.  .;    ho 

should  maintain  a  serious  and  pharisaical  COL 
m. iv  lauijh  mildly  in  sympathy  with  those  who  a 
his  wit,  provided  lie  is  not  the  first  to  laugh. 

Too  great  familiarity  toward  a  new  acquaintance  is  not 
only  in  had  taste,  but  is  fatal  to  the  continuance  of  friend- 
ship. 

The  most  refined  and  cultivated  always  seek  t 
both  in  their  dress  and  in  their  behavior,  the  a; 
of  any   desire  to  attract  attention.     Extremes  in 
and  flashy  colors  are  marks  of  a  low  degree   of  cu 
tion.     Savages  are   never  pleased  by  the  finer  blendings 

r  in  color  or  sound. 

When   in  company    talk   as   little  as  possible  of  your- 
self or  of  the   business   or   profession  in  which  you    are 
engaged,  at  least,  do  not  be  the  first  to  introduce  : 
topics. 

.  ry  species  of  affectation  is  absolutely  disgust:  I: 

is  also  so  easily  detected  that  no  one  but  an  actor 

it. 

When  it  is  necessary  to  call  upon  a  business  man  in  the 
hours  of  business,  if  possible,  select  that  hour  in  which  you 
ha\v  :ievi-  he,  is  least  engaged.  And  even  then 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  205 

talk  only  of  business  unless  he  should  introduce  other  top- 
ics. Unless  the  person  sustains  some  other  relation  to  you 
than  that  of  business,  do  not  stop  a  moment  after  you 
have  completed  your  business. 

If  you  have  wronged  any  one,  not  only  the  rules  of 
etiquette,  but  the  most  obvious  interpretation  of  moral 
obligation  requires  you  to  be  willing  and  quick  to  apolo- 
gize. And  never,  under  any  circumstances,  refuse  to  ac- 
cept an  honest  apology  for  an  offense. 

Pay  whatever  attention  you  choose  to  your  dress  and 
personal  appearance  before  you  enter  society,  but  after- 
wards expel  the  subject  from  your  mind  and  do  not  allow 
your  thoughts  to  dwell  upon  it. 

Never  enter  a  house,  even  your  own,  without  removing 
your  hat. 

Do  not  try  to  be  mysterious  in  company,  by  alluding  in 
an  equivocal  manner,  to  those  things  which  only  one  or 
two  of  the  company  understand. 

Never  boast  of  your  own  knowledge,  and  do  not,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  accuse  another  of  a  lack  of  knowl- 
edge. Do  not  even  manifest  your  knowledge  of  any  par- 
ticular subject  in  such  a  way  and  under  such  circumstances 
as  will  cause  another  to  appear  to  poor  advantage. 

Never  leave  a  friend  suddenly  while  engaged  in  an  inter- 
esting conversation.  Wait  till  there  is  a  pause  or  a  turn 
in  the  conversation. 

Do  not  hesitate  to  offer  any  assistance,  that  the  occasion 


206 

seem  to  demand,  to  a  lady,  »  •  be  a 

^er. 

In    company    mention   your    husband   or  wife    with 
same  degree  t  with  which  you  would  spca!. 

stranger,  and  reserve  nil  pet  names  for  times  air.l 
which  they  will  !>• 

Never  violate  the  confidence  of  another.     Do  not  seek 
to  avenge  a  wron^  l>y  revealing  the  secrets  of  an  en< 
which  were  told  to  you  while  he  was  a  fri 

Always  dispose  of  your  time  as  if  your  watch  were  too 
fast,  you  will  then  have  a  few  moments'  margin  in  the  ful- 
fillment of  all  engagements.  To  break  an  engagement 
almost  always  injures  you  more  than  the  othc 

Treat  a  woman,  whatever  may  be  her  social  or  moral 
rank,  as  though  she  were  a  princess. 

Always  show  a  willingness  to  converse  with  a  lady  on 
any  topic  that  she  may  select. 

Do  not  ask  questions  concerning  the  private  affairs  of 
your  friends,  nor  be  curious  in  regard  to  the  business  rela- 
tions of  any  one. 

Wrangling  and  contradictions  are  not  only  violations  of 
etiquette,  but  they  also  violate  the  requirements  of 
since  they  defeat  the  very  purpose  of  respectful  discussion, 
to  convince. 

Return  a  borrowed  book,  when  you  have  finished  r 
ing  it,  without  delay.     A  library  made  up  of  borrowed 
'.  <li -graceful  possession. 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  207 

"When  entering  a  room  bow  slightly  to  the  whole  com- 
pany, but  to  no  one  in  particular. 

Make  the  comfort  and  welfare  of  others  a  prime  object 
of  your  life,  and  you  will  thereby  fulfill  all  the  require- 
ments of  etiquette. 

In  addition  to  the  foregoing,  we  present  another  list  of 
rules  which  ought  to  be  of  special  interest  to  every  Amer- 
ican citizen,  not  only  on  account  of  their  intrinsic  worth, 
but  also  on  account  of  their  origin,  for  their  author  was 
George  Washington.  He  called  them  his  "Rules  of  Civil- 
ity and  Decent  Behavior  in  Company."  They  were  writ- 
ten at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  have  been  termed  "  Wash- 
ington's Maxims." 

1.  Every  action  in  company  ought  to  be  with  some  sign  of 
respect  to  those  present. 

2.  In  the  presence  of  others  sing  not  to  yourself  with  a  hum- 
ming voice,  nor  drum  with  your  fingers  or  feet. 

3.  Speak  not  when  others  speak,  sit  not  when  others  stand, 
and  walk  not  when  others  stop. 

4.  Turn  not  your  back  to  others,  especially  in  speaking  ;   jog 
not  the  table  or  desk  on  which  another  reads  or  writes  ;   lean 
not  on  any  one. 

5.  Be  no  flatterer,  neither  play  with  any  one  that  delights  not 
to  be  played  with. 

6.  Read  no  letters,  books  or  papers  in  company;   but  when 
there  is  a  necessity  for  doing  it,  you  must  not  leave.     Come 
not  near  the  books  or  writings  of  any  one  so  as  to  read  them 
unasked  ;  also  look  not  nigh  when  another  is  writing  a  letter. 


106 

7.   1  nice  be  pleasant,  h 


8.  Show   not   yourself   glad   at   tho   misfortune  of   an 
though  he  were  your  eneu 

that  aro  in  dignity  or  office  have  in  all  places  prece- 
.,  I.  ut  whilst  thi-y  :ir«-  .  respect  those 

that  are  their  equals  in  birth  or  other  qualities,  though 
have  no  public  charge. 

10.  It  is  good  manners  to  prof  horn  we  speak  be- 
fore ourselves,  especially  if  they  be  above  us. 

11.  Let  your  discourse  with  men  of  business  be  short 
comprehensi 

In  visiting  the  sick  do  not  \y  play  ti  ui  if 

you  be  not  knowing  therein. 

In  writing  or  speaking,  give  to  every  person  his  du< 
according  to  his  degree  and  the  custom  of  the  place. 

1  }.   Strivr  not  with  your  superiors  in  argument,  but  always 
submit  your  judgment  to  others  with  mode:* 

1  ">.   Undertake  not  to  teach  your  equal  in  the  art  he  hi: 
professes  ;  it  savors  arrogam-y. 

1(>.   When  a  man  does  all  he  can  though  it  succeeds  not 
blame  not  him  that  did  it. 

17.  Being  to  advise  or  reprehend  any  ono,  oonsM-T  whether  it 
ought  to  be  in  public  or  in  pr:  y  or  at  some 

also  in  what   terms  to  do  it  ;    and   in  reproving  show  no 
signs  of  choler,  but  do  it  with  sweetness  and  mild 

18.  Mock  not  nor  jest  at  anything  of  importance  ;   break  no 
jests  that  are  sharp  or  biting,  and  if  you  deliver  anything 

or  pleasant,  abstain  from  laughing  thereat  yourself. 


MANNERS  At  HOME.  209 

19.  Wherein  you  reprove  another  be  unblamable  yourself, 
for  example  is  more  prevalent  than  precept. 

20.  Use   no   reproachful  language  against  any  one,  neither 
curses  or  revilings. 

21.  Be  not  hasty  to  believe  flying  reports  to  the  disparage- 
ment of  any  one. 

22.  In  your  apparel  be  modest,  and  endeavor  to  accommodate 
nature  rather  than  procure  admiration.     Keep  to  the  fashion  of 
your  equals,  such  as  are  civil  and  orderly  with  respect  to  time 
and  place. 

23.  Play  not  the  peacock,  looking  everywhere  about  you  to 
see  if  you  be  well  decked,  if  your  shoes  fit  well,  if  your  stock- 
ings set  neatly  and  clothes  handsomely. 

24.  Associate  yourself  with  men  of  good  quality  if  you  es- 
teem your  reputation,  for  it  is  better  to  be  alone  than  in  bad 
company. 

25.  Let  your  conversation  be  without  malice  or  envy,  for  it  is 
a  sign  of  a  tractable  and  commendable  nature  ;    and  in  all  cases 
of  passion  admit  reason  to  govern. 

2G.  Be  not  immodest  in  urging  your  friend  to  discover  a 
secret. 

27.  Utter  not  base  and  frivolous  things  amongst  grown  and 
learned  men,  nor  very  difficult  questions  or  subjects  amongst 
the  ignorant,  nor  things  hard  to  be  believed. 

28.  Speak  not  of  doleful  things  in  time  of  mirth  nor  at  the 
table;  speak  not  of  melancholy  things,  as  death  and  wounds; 
and  if  others  mention  them,  change,  if  you  can,  the  discourse. 
Tell  not  your  dreams  but  to  your  intimate  friends. 

29.  Break   not   a   jest    when   none  take   pleasure  in  mirth. 

u 


210 

Laugh  not  aloud,  nor  at  al!  occasion.     I).  'nan's 

rt unes,  though  there  seem  to  be  some  cause. 

30.  Speak  not  injurious  wori 

i  they  give  occasi 

.ml,  but    friendly 
salute,  hear  and  answer,  and  be  not  pensive  win  n  it 

o  .nv.-r.se. 

Detract  not  from  others,  but  neither  be  excessh 
ling. 

Go  not  tliitl.  you  know  not  whether  y 

me  or  not.     Give  not  advice  without  being  asked;   and 
uheii  do  it  briefly. 

34.  If  two  contend  together,  take  not  the  part  of  either  .MI- 
•  ruined,  and  be  not  obstinate  in  your  opinions;    in   i 

indifferent  be  of  the  major  side. 

35.  Reprehend  not  the  imperfection  of  others,  for  that  oo- 
longs to  parents,  masters  and  superiors. 

Gaze  not  on  the  marks  or  blemishes  of  or  *-k 

n«>t  how  they  came.     What   you  may  speak  in  seen 
not  before  others. 

ik  not  in  an  unknown  tongue  in  company,  but  in 
own  language;  and  that  as  those  of  quality  do,  and  not  as  the 
vulgar.     Sublime  matters  treat  seriously. 

38.  Think  before  you  speak;   pronounce  not  im. 
bring  out  your  words  too  heartily,  but  orderly  and  di 

39.  When  another  speaks,  be  attentive  yourself,  and  di- 
not  the  audience.     If  any  hesitate  in  his  words,  help  him  not, 
nor  prompt  him  without  being  desired;   interrupt  him  no 
answer  him  till  his  speech  be  ended. 


MANNERS  AT  HOME.  211 

40.  Treat  with  men  at  fit  times  about  business,  and  whisper 
not  in  the  company  of  others. 

41.  Make  no  comparisons;    and  if  any  of  the  company  be 
commended  for  any  brave  act  of  virtue,  commend  not  another 
for  the  same. 

42.  Be  not  apt  to  relate  news  if  you  know  not  the  truth 
thereof.     In  discoursing  of  things  that  you  have  heard,  name 
not  your  author  always.     A  secret  discover  not. 

43.  Be  not  curious  to  know  the  affairs  of  others,  neither  ap- 
proach to  those  who  speak  in  private. 

44.  Undertake  not  what  you  cannot  perform;   but  be  careful 
to  keep  your  promise. 

45.  When  you  deliver  a  matter,  do  it  without  passion  and  in- 
discretion, however  mean  the  person  may  be  you  do  it  to. 

46.  When  your  superiors  talk  to  anybody,  hear  them;  neither 
speak  nor  laugh. 

47.  In  disputes  be  not  so  desirous  to  overcome  as  not  to  give 
liberty  to  each  one  to  deliver  his  opinion,  and  submit  to  the 
judgment  of  the  major  part,  especially  if  they  are  judges  of  the 
dispute. 

48.  Be  not  tedious  in  discourse,  make  not  many  digressions, 
nor  repeat  often  the  same  matter  of  discourse. 

49.  Speak  no  evil  of  the  absent,  for  it  is  unjust. 

50.  Be  not  angry  at  table,  whatever  happens;    and  if  you 
have  reason  to  be  so  show  it  not;    put  on  ,a  cheerful  counte- 
nance, especially  if  there  be  strangers,  for  good  humor  makes 
one  dish  a  feast. 

51.  Set  not  yourself  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table;   but  if  it 


212 

bo  your  due,  or  the  master  have  it  t»< 

>u  sju-ak  of  G  <i*  at  tribute, 

i  honor,  a  iral  ]»ar« 

Let  you  'ions  be  manful,  not  sinful. 

Labor  to  keep  alive  in  your  breast   that  little  spark  oi 
celestial  fire  called  con 

"  Few  to  pood  breeding  make  a  just  pretense; 
Good  breeding  is  the  blossom  of  good  aease; 
The  la.it  result  of  an  aocoroplUb'd  mind, 
With  outward  grace,  the  body'*  virtue,  join'd." 


FAMILY   SECRETS. 


ATURE'S  most  beneficent  operations  are  hid- 
den from  our  sight  beneath  the  surface  of 
things.  The  germination  of  all  life  is  under 
a  veil.  She  will  not  let  a  seed  sprout  till  she 
has  buried  it.  All  Nature  is  one  great  hall  of 
free-masonry  where  every  movement  is  at  the 
gesture  of  a  spectral  hand.  In  secrecy  and 
even  deception,  she  is  an  adept.  Not  only 
does  she  hide  her  operations  from  our  sight, 
but  she  actually  gives  false  signals.  She  is 
an  accomplished  ventriloquist,  and  we  cannot  tell  whence 
come  her  most  characteristic  sounds.  The  cry  of  the  new 
born  infant  comes  to  us  from  the  thicket,  and  at  the  birth- 
day party  of  a  child  the  irresponsible  parrot  becom.es  the 
orator  of  the  day.  The  mocking-bird,  in  droll  mimicry, 
utters  the  wail  of  sorrow  and  the  laugh  of  joy.  The 
spider  touched,  feigns  death.  The  earthquake  is  prone  to 
imitate  the  thunder.  The  voices  of  the  night  are  inter- 
changeable. The  stupid  owl  steals  the  voice  of  sorrow, 
and  the  breeze  whispers  every  sentiment.  The  sky  pre- 
sents the  delusion  of  a  blue  tent  cover,  while  every  tree 


he  stream  sees  it 

Wi-  look  u;  i  canvas,  and  tin 

the  cunning  jug.  '-comes. 

.  shall  dure  prove  Nature  a  liar  and  fan-  tin. 

•  •    . .    ndi 

regard  Nature  as  the  work  of  G 
corollary  should  surely  canst 

Na:  liar.     No  act  of  hers  fulls  under  any  poa. 

sible  driinition  of  a  lie.     She  simply  possesst- 
of  secrecy. 

II   :,    ty  compels  no  man  to  stop  on  the  hi-  .  ex- 

nid  if  curious  idlers  inquire  of  him,  ; 
..so  in  h  !.i\v  that  bids  him  divul<j. 

ful  secret.     And  if  the  man  pcm-ives  that  L 
by  these  .  witii  truth' 

first  cross  road  that   leads  him  in  the  opposite 
object  of  his  errand.     Perhaps  tin-  idlt-i 
good  dfinaiii  he  secret  be  withheld  from  him. 

Now  let  us  see  if  these  limitations  do  not 
use  of  Nature. 
:  some  wise  purpose  most  of  Nature's  secrets  an-  \\ith- 

;ay  believe  that  to  know  them  \\ 

harm  us.     P«  ir  pridr  (U-mands  that  i  -.vith- 

-   again    the  scheme  of  d 

' '.  •     -  .  we  know 

that  most  of  :  \ithheld.     We  are  idle 


FAMILY  SECRETS.  215 

tioners,  and  often  compel  her  to  take  cross  roads,  or  to 
walk  in  brooks  to  destroy  the  scent  of  her  trail.  In  every 
case  she  but  withholds  a  rightful  secret.  The  purpose  of 
the  mocking-bird  is  simply  to  defeat  our  pride  when  we 
claim  to  know  what  Nature  is  about  by  the  intonations  of 
her  voice.  She  hides  the  knowledge  of  disease  from  us 
while  she  attempts  to  cure  it  without  frightening  us.  To 
gaze  forever  on  a  ghastly  skeleton  would  sicken  us  of  life. 
Hence  Nature  with  cunning  and  deceptive  fingers  haa 
buried  deep  beneath  her  broidery  of  flesh  the  awful  sugges- 
tion of  death. 

Thus,  while  we  have  freed  Nature  from  our  own  implied 
charge  of  falsehood,  we  have  yet  learned  from  her  a  grand 
lesson.  We  have  learned  that  she  is  the  great  advocate  of 
family  secrets. 

Secrecy  is  one  of  the  first  duties  that  the  domestic  rela- 
tion imposes.  It  is  one  of  the  cardinal  necessities  to  the 
existence  of  the  family.  Every  family  has  its  secrets  and 
must  have  them  while  it  is  a  family.  To  publish  the 
secrets  of  any  family  would  be  to  dissipate  that  family. 

The  sacred  right  to  secrecy  transcends  all  etiquette.  No 
rule  of  manners  can  compel  one  to  divulge  one  secret  of 
his  domestic  relations.  Without  confidence  the  marriage 
bond  would  be  a  rope  of  sand.  But  secrecy  is  the  only 
condition  that  can  maintain  confidence. 

It  is  the  custom  of  many  married  people  to  make  no 
secret  of  their  love,  and  on  all  public  occasions  they  seek, 


in   a   most  K 

i-.tr,  but  it  is  a 
• 

uses  seek 

•   pure  :•.  ;   the 

brea> 

\vith  fruits  iinii: 
from  the  gaze  of  those  v.  .tluze. 

.  until  we  se<  MS.      It 

becomes  disgust  indulge  in  public 

;js  are  alwav-  ;idieule. 

Not  that  :i  indi (Terence 

toward  his  \v  blio.     Th>  I  all  the  ; 

B  s;iid.      HI:  ud   wives  should  appear 

lerate  of  r.n-h  oth.-r  in  publ.  .     It 

is  pe;  :-oj>er  that  ti.  :u-r  should  proclaim  their 

>n.     Hut  true  love  !••  ud  and 

re  engrossing  attention,  t 

laresses  which  soci.ty  in  •  :,nnt  \\\. 

;te  a  language  that  only  '. 

idly  given  to  us  a  d: 
ceal  them. 

fact  tliat  the  h-  uks  from  tlie  pul  ifes- 

tation  of  affectioi. 

i  purity,  a  proof  that  it  is  a' 

. 'innion    :  ,1    in   t],; 

baaed  the  philosophy  of  family 


FAMILY  SECRETS. 

The  family  is  the  outgrowth  of  love,  and  love's  eternal 
condition  is  secrecy.  Hence  the  family  relation  in  all  its 
phases  is  more  or  less  intimately  connected  with  the  in- 
stinct of  secrecy.  It  is  a  native  impulse  of  every  high- 
minded  person  to  keep  those  facts  a  secret  which  pertain  to 
the  history  of  his  family — even  those  facts  which  in  their 
nature  do  not  demand  secrecy. 

Nature  hides  the  embryo  of  every  seed,  and  carries  on  in 
the  dark  the  process  by  which  she  rears  and  trains  the  lit- 
tle plant,  and  the  mother  should  follow  Nature's  example 
in  rearing  and  training  her  child.  Children  punished,  or 
in  any  way  disciplined  in  the  presence  of  others,  are  almost 
always  made  worse  thereby,  instead  of  better.  That  in- 
tuitive confidence  and  mutual  knowledge  that  exists  be- 
tween motHer  and  child  is  so  delicate  in  its  nature  that  the 
presence  of  a  third  party,  even  if  it  be  a  brother  or  a  sister, 
is  sometimes  fatal  to  its  proper  action. 

Parents  should  never  censure  their  children,  nor  even 
speak  disparagingly  of  them,  in  the  presence  of  strangers  01 
visitors. 

There  are  certain  private  rights  which  belong  to  each 
member  of  a  family,  and  should  not  be  violated,  and  yet 
their  rights  are  too  often  disregarded. 

Every  one  naturally  holds  back  the  expression  of  the 
greater  parts  of  his  thoughts.  For  every  thought  that  we 
express  we  have  a  thousand  that  never  pass  the  limits  of 
our  own  consciousness.  This,  of  course,  we  feel  to  be  a 


.pon,  we 

• 
U  treapaased  '.;•;:  1' 

Inch 

results   in   a: 

falsehood  may  be  produced  in  a  child  l>y  not  <    :. 
him  the  ii.itur.il  right  of  privacy.     We  «:  •  follow- 

ing from  the  autli  I1... ok": — 

:ghta  commonly   trespassed  upon. 
tilting  u  «f  good  manners,   is  the 

privacy,  or  of  :rol  of  one's  own  person  ami  a; 

e  are  places  in  this  country  v  re  exists  scai 

the  slightest  recognit  .     A  man  or  \v 

into  your   house   without  ig.     No   room    is 

I  unless  you  lock  the  door,  and  an  exclusion  would  l>e 
an    fault      l'.:.-;its    intrude  upon   childrt-n    and   rliildren 
upon  }  arriits !    '[":.•  busband  thinka  he  i  u  a  n-lit  t..  ••nt«-r 
his  wife's  room,  a  ife  would  feel  injured  if  excl 

by  night  or  day  from  her  In;  It  is  said  : 

r's  letters,  and  claim  as  a  right 
;ld  have  any  secrets  from  the  oil. 
"  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  such  a  state  of  inti-n.-r  l.ar- 

II  in  a  civilized  •  :cnial  of 

and  most  j.rimitive  rights,  such  an  utter  absence  of 
cacy  and  good  manners  ;  and  had  we  not  been  assur< 
good  authority  that  such  tilings  «  should 

a  respecting  them  needless  and  impertinent. 


FAMILY  SECRETS.  219 

"  Every  person  in  a  dwelling  should,  if  possible,  have  a 
room  as  sacred  from  intrusion  as  the  house  is  to  the  fam- 
ily. No  child  grown  to  the  years  of  discretion  should  be 
outraged  by  intrusion.  No  relation,  however  intimate, 
can  justify  it.  So  the  trunks,  boxes,  papers  and  letters  of 
every  individual,  locked  or  unlocked,  sealed  or  unsealed, 
are  sacred." 

This  matter  of  privacy  can,  no  doubt,  be  carried  to  ex- 
cess, and  whether  we  endorse  all  of  the  foregoing  or  not, 
it  certainly  contains  much  truth.  The  tendency  of  civil- 
ization has  always  been  toward  the  development  of  indi- 
viduality and  private  interest.  In  the  rude  civilization  of 
frontier  life,  one  room  serves  as  parlor,  kitchen,  and 
sleeping  room  for  the  whole  family,  and  all  private  inter- 
ests within  the  family  are  ignored.  This  principle  is  still 
more  forcibly  illustrated  by  comparing  savage  with  civil- 
ized life.  Although  civilization  tends  to  the  multiplica- 
tion and  development  of  social  institutions,  yet  it  tends 
still  more  to  the  development  of  the  individual.  It  brings 
the  aggregate  interest  into  harmony  with  that  of  the  indi- 
vidual. This  it  does  not  so  much  by  curtailing  and  modi- 
fying the  rights  of  the  mass,  as  by  recognizing  and  in- 
creasing the  rights  of  the  individual. 

We  do  not  mean  by  individual  rights,  individual  isola- 
tion in  the  sense  in  which  we  find  it  on  the  first  pages  of 
human  history.  The  individual  and  the  family  were  then 
sufficiently  isolated.  Every  family  was  a  nation  in  itself, 


no 

:t  ha«l  no  right*  .In  with  rock 

1    not    t; 
toget  '»  in  tin; 

.     Win 

of  the  fa-  .  nil  is  re- 

tmily  secrete  are  rendered  more  neceeaar 

ily  secrete  does  not  mean  family  reserve  or  es- 
trangement, a  thousand  times  that  every  in«l . 
ual  right  should  be  ignor  that  hn>bands  and  v. 
and  brothers  and  sisters  should  become  cold  and  di 
and    indifterent.     This  is  tin-  nu»t   fatal  tliat 
can  befall  a  family.     I  nil                the  death  blow  to  home, 
and  wha:                                                        skeleton  from  which 
j.irit  has  forever  flown.     The  family  whose  members 
do  not   mutually   c<>nMilt  and   ad\ise   and    work  tojj- 

other's  good  have  virtually  SUIT- 
f  home,  and  are  living   as  strangers  whom  circnm- 
'•omi>elled  to  live  in  close  proximity.    History 
irdly    an  example  of  a  man    who  has  j 
cess,  who  did  not  make  his  wife  a  partnt -r  in   his 
.    Behind  every  brilliant  career  there  will  be  f 
a   Martha  or  a  Josephine.     The  act   of  1. 

family  secrets  renders  more  beautiful  the   i;  ^e  of 

:<ms  and  lirart-bleed- 
.itimate  nowhere  else  but  in  the  heart  of 


FAMILY  SECRETS.  221 

'  From  the  outward  world  about  us. 

From  the  hurry  and  the  din, 
Oh,  how  little  do  we  gather 

Of  the  other  world  within! 

****** 
But  when  the  hearth  is  kindled, 

And  the  house  is  hushed  at  night— 
Ah,  then  the  secret  writing 

Of  the  spirit  comes  to  light! 
Through  the  mother's  light  caressing 

Of  the  haby  on  her  knee, 
We  see  the  mystic  writing 

That  she  does  not  know  we  see- 
By  the  love-light  as  it  flashes 

In  her  tender-lidded  eyes, 
We  know  if  that  her  vision  rest 

On  earth,  or  in  the  skies; 
And  by  the  song  she  chooses, 

By  the  very  tune  she  sings, 
We  know  if  that  her  heart  be  set 

On  seen,  or  unseen  things." 


DUTIES   OF   HOME. 


•III".  \v..:d  home  seems  to  bo  ins. 

ith  certain  >i«:t.-ilic  ii 
not  dwell  within  the  circle  of  h 
bring  m< -rally  respo:  '...trge 

of  special  duties  that  owe  their  origin  to  the 

. 
The  first  duty  of  home  in  the  order  of  dc- 

it  is  developed  as 
>tablished,  is  the  duty  of  husband  and  v. : 
.  '^et  that  they  owe  any  8] 
duties  to  their  wives,  and 

s  her  a  debt  She 

has  given    him  what  for'  <c,  a  human 

heart.  him  the  compliment  thai 

human   being  ca:  I   him  by 

actions  that  cannot  lie,  that  he  is  more  to  her  than  all  the 
associations  of  her  life;  more  than  the  sweet  playmates  of 
her  girlhood;  more  than  her  sister's  caress  and  bro; 

;  more  than  the  love  and  tenderness  of  parents ;  nmre 

her  dear  old  home.     She  leaves  all  these  for  him, 

although  her  hear*  strings  cannot  be  unwound  from  any  of 


DUTIES  OF  HOME.  223 

them,  but  must  be  broken  and  torn  away.  Does  human 
life  present  a  more  touching  spectacle  than  that  of  a  young 
bride  suppressing  her  tears  and  forcing  a  smile  while  she 
kisses  her  mother  and  father  and  sister  and  brother  fare- 
well ?  How  hard  hearted,  how  unworthy  of  her,  how  even 
beastly,  must  be  the  man,  if  we  may  give  him  that  title, 
who  does  not  under  those  circumstances  feel  his  knees  bend 
a  little  with  the  instinctive  impulse  of  adoration. 

The  husband  can  discharge  the  duties  which  he  owes 
to  his  wife  only  by  keeping  perpetually  in  his  mind  that  he 
owes  her  a  debt  to  pay  which,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take 
advantage  of  every  passing  opportunity. 

But  the  obligations  and  duties  are  not  all  on  the  part  of 
the  husband.  If  the  wife  is  the  woman  that  she  ought  to 
be,  and  esteems  herself  accordingly,  and  at  the  same  time 
considers  the  man  whom  she  has  accepted  as  worthy  of 
her,  she  ought  certainly  to  feel  under  the  deepest  obliga- 
tion to  him. 

The  first  duty  that  a  wife  owes  to  her  husband  is  to  ap- 
pear attractive  to  him.  She  should  dress  with  almost  ex- 
clusive reference  to  his  tastes.  This  subject,  idle  as  it  may 
seem,  is  fraught  with  deep  consequences  to  the  race.  We 
cannot  tell  the  reader  all  about  it  without  discussing  at 
length  the  broad  question  of  "natural  selection,"  which 
would  be  out  of  place  in  a  work  like  this.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  great  law  demands  that  the  wife  should  continually 
appeal  as  strongly  as  possible,  to  the  sense  of  beauty  in  her 


' 

oiiutiful.     It  is  beau 
ami  when  ot:  equal  i 

Tin- iv  have  been,  doubtieM,  many  women  so  ill-fin 

-o  unsyminetrical  in  • 
possibly  present  to  any  man  a  sinjj 

hey  have  been  the  objects  of  the 

Hut  in  every  such  case  there  will  be  found  either  an  in- 

d  or  a  Hi'  ity  that  has  charmed  th. 

George  wife  of  Carlyle  could   no; 

;  v    much  of   the  "dimpled  beau 
•  a  higher  beauty  in  their  sou! 

pression  in  their  faces  when  closely  md  f.>r  v, 

the  giddy  girl  niitjht  well  desire  to  exchange  her  dim; 

I    yet    physical    beauty    has    its    lii^'h    Oi  -very 

face  of  beauty  is  from  the  c •! 

.  dimple  is  Uie  finger  print  of  the  Divine.     A". 

'it' r  be.i; 
intellectual  and  spiritual. 

Thrice    happy  is   that   woman  who  possesses  all  these 
is  a  star  of  the  first   magnitude  in  the  firmament  oi 
human  society.     God  never  endowed  a  woman  with  thid 
three:  ;'ity    without    reserving    a     claim    upon     he/ 

power.     Such  a  woman  belongs  to  humanity,  miu 

istrant  to  human  need. 


DUTIES  OF  HOME.  225 

Of  these  three  forms  of  beauty,  the  spiritual  is  of  the 
first  importance,  intellectual  of  the  second,  and  physical  of 
the  third.  Although  no  amount  of  physical  beauty  can 
fully  compensate  for  the  slightest  deficiency  of  the  spirit- 
ual, yet  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  lack  of  physical 
beauty  is  never  so  painfully  obvious  as  when  accompanied 
by  a  like  spiritual  deficiency. 

It  is  a  law  established  by  observations  made  on  the 
entire  animal  kingdom,  that  the  worth  of  offspring,  other 
things  being  equal,  is  in  the  ratio  of  the  mother's  beauty. 
It  may  not  be  a  beauty  that  would  stand  before  the  criti- 
cism of  the  world,  but  it  must  be  a  beauty  that  charms  the 
husband. 

In  view  of  these  facts  is  it  not  the  highest  duty  of 
woman,  a  duty  which  she  owes  to  God  and  to  humanity, 
to  make  herself  at  all  times  as  beautiful  in  her  husband's 
eyes  as  possible  ?  It  is  a  diviner  art  to  maintain  affection 
than  to  awaken  it.  It  cannot  long  be  maintained,  if  the 
advantages  under  which  it  was  awakened  are  withdrawn. 
Your  husband  wooed  and  won  you  in  your  best  attire,  in  an 
atmosphere  surcharged  with  the  bewilderment  of  roses, 
perfume  and  of  song,  amid  the  sweet  intoxication  of  wood- 
land rambles  and  moonlight  poetry.  You  come  to  his 
house,  take  off  the  myrtle  from  your  hair  and  cast  the  rose- 
bud from  your  throat,  and  exchange  the  rustling  per- 
fumed robes  of  love  for  soiled  calico.  Can  you  expect 
anything  but  a  chilling  shock  to  the  affections  of  him 

15 


IM 

re  bad  stood  g  moveless 

o  of  love  ? 
Ladies  need  but  little  nd\  kind  c<>: 

penonal  appearance  when  they  go  i  In- 

!  for  tin- 
they  would  appear  a  little  les- 

;    husbands,  and  a  little  more  so  in  the  presen 
•own.    I  der  that  the  husband  grows  < 

anil  indi:  :*  wife  when  he  sees  her  exhaust- 

ing  every  resource  of  invention  to  en' 
nets  in  the  presence  of  other  men,  while  cars  con- 

tinually  in  his  presence  with  soiled 

n  we  h<  making  an  almost  Indi- 

:e  of  tl. 

of  winning  the  admiration  of 

some  brilliant  society  man,  when  their  c  \vith 

hands  n<  s  to  higher  themes  than  the  last 

and  a  new  d  I  to  ehmvh. 

This  is  an  almost  unive. 

is  free  from  it.     I1  committed  alike  hy  tlic 

the  po.ir.  in  ignorance  of  one  of  the  gi 
that  govern  human  love. 

secret  of  many  a  conjn 
•;it  little  to  d  .   put   a 

in  tl.  !ie  who  cannot  find  time  t->  do   ; 

perh.  id  hy  find  time  to  mourn  over  blighted  hopes 

and  buried  love. 


DUTIES  OF  HOME. 

Important  as  are  the  duties  that  husband  and  wife  owe 
to  each  other,  no  less  important  are  those  which  they  owe 
to  their  children.  It  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  make  the 
home  of  childhood  pleasant  and  attractive,  for  children  de- 
velop more  perfectly  in  pleasant  than  in  unpleasant  homes, 
We  do  not  mean,  however,  mere  outward  attractiveness. 
It  is  not  essential  that  the  home  should  overlook  some  rich 
and  beautiful  landscape ;  but  that  the  associations  of 
home  should  be  pleasant  and  agreeable  to  the  children ;  so 
that  they  may  not  become  restless  and  desirous  of  leaving  it. 

It  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  make  their  children  love 
them.  Not  that  they  should  compel  love  with  the  authority 
of  the  rod,  for  that  would  be  impossible  ;  but  by  the  wise 
application  of  the  law  that  "  love  begets  love."  No  person 
has  any  right  to  be  the  parent  of  a  child  that  doesn't  love 
him.  Thoughtlessness  and  narrow  views  of  life's  relations 
are  often  fatal  to  filial  love.  Parents  too  often  forget  that 
they  themselves  were  once  children  with  children's  tastes, 
desires,  and  whims. 

It  is  natural  for  children  to  love  their  parents,  not  only 
during  the  years  of  childhood,  but  through  life.  And  yet 
We  often  see  very  little  filial  love  among  grown  up  children. 
This  is  chiefly  because  the  parents  failed  to  make  a  proper 
concession  to  the  demands  of  childhood.  A  child  cannot 
love  one,  be  it  parent  or  teacher,  who  suppresses  his  child 
nature.  When  once  the  tender  bond  of  sympathy  between 
parent  and  child  haB  thus  been  broken  it  can  never  be 


KM 

fulh  \hen   tl.'  .1  mail 

• 
have  caused  him,  in  •  '>.'••::  him  in  ae.  with 

By  sympathy  ^  •!  mean  l«>\e.     It   i-,  j.n- 

love  to  e  inpathy,  or  at  least  without  that 

intimate,  almost   ;  Ifl  sympathy    th.. 

between  pare  liild.    Such  parents  usually 

children  with  much  tenderness,  but   ti 

ace  a  great  gulf  D  themselves  and  tli< 

of  ll.'  do  not  D  .d  that  ; 

:ig  child.  :t   i.f  lun'oniin^   "a  child   again," 

of  going  back  win -iv  the  children  are,  and  so  growing  up 
again  with  them.     V«-.>,  tlie  way  to  bring  up  a  child 
go  back  and  get    him    and  take  him   along  with   y«»u  up 
to  manhood.      Y     ;    ii  -uhl  not  stand  on  the  height  and  call 
him  up,  fur  IK.-  would  be  very  apt  to  lose  hi-  \\.iy.      1 
not  acqi:  path.     You  know  it  is  a  narrow 

path,  only  wide  enough   for  one,  and  that  all  who  would 

.b  that  height  must  go  "single  1 

But  the  obligations  of  parents  and  children  are  recipro- 
cal, and  corresponding  to  the  duties  that  parents  o\. 

those  that  children  owe  to  their  parents. 
That    children  owe  to  their  parents  a  debt  of  gratitude, 

them  the  duty  of  obedience,  love 

is  a  proposition  that  reipiir-s  no  demonstration,  for  it  : 
the  approval  of  every  true  child. 


1)UTIES  OF  HOME.  229 

Less  recognized  than  the  above  are  the  duties  that  chil- 
ureu  owe  to  each  other.  The  older  children  owe  to  the 
younger  ones  the  duty  of  tenderness  and  consideration  for 
their  age,  and  should  not  in  their  dealings  with  them  apply 
the  ethics  of  society,  "  Do  to  others  as  others  do  to  you." 
They  should  rather  apply  the  golden  rule  as  it  reads,  and 
patiently  trust  to  a  more  mature  age  to  develop  in  their 
thoughtless  little  brothers  and  sisters  a  deeper  sense  of  ob- 
ligation and  moral  responsibility.  The  older  children  are 
very  apt  to  take  advantage  of  the  younger  ones,  and  often 
use  their  superior  tact  in  pleading  their  own  case  to  the 
parents.  Now  everything  of  this  sort  is  a  violation  of  the 
duties  that  older  children  owe  to  the  younger. 

But  the  younger  children  owe  certain  duties  to  the  older 
ones.  Children  should  always  be  taught  to  respect  supe- 
rior knowledge  and  experience,  whether  found  in  parent, 
teacher,  or  older  brothers  and  sisters.  Hence  the  younger 
children  owe  to  the  older  ones  the  duty  of  respect  and,  to 
a  certain  extent,  obedience. 

Brothers  owe  to  their  sisters  precisely  the  same  respect 
and  gallantry  that  they  owe  to  women  everywhere.  They 
will  be  rewarded  for  this  in  the  ease  with  which  when  they 
become  older  they  can  enter  the  society  of  ladies,  and  sis- 
ters will  receive  the  same  reward  for  properly  discharging 
at  home  the  duties  that  they  owe  to  every  man. 

The  duties  of  home  then  are  simply  the  aggregate  of  all 
the  obligations  that  grow  out  of  the  family  relation,  and  on. 


no 

the  discharge  of  these  d»  !  tlio 

home  life.      Home  may  be  mad. 
cording  to  the  discharge  of  these  obligations,     i 
how«  gnat  questions  of  moral  ol> 

:    those  little    ol  imposes. 

The  crowning  glory  life  is  that  it  <; 

supnunest  joy  from  the  little  events. 

"Our  daily  path*,  with  thorns  or  flowers 

We  can  at  will  bestrew  them; 
What  bliss  would  gild  the  passing  boon, 

If  we  l>nt  rU'htly  knew  them! 
The  way  of  life  is  rough  at  best, 

Hut  l.r.  TS  yield  the  roses; 
So  that  which  leads  to  Joy  and  rest 

The  hardest  path  discloses. 

*  The  weeds  that  oft  we  cast  away, 

Their  simple  beauty  scorning, 
Would  form  a  wreath  of  purest  ray, 

And  prove  the  best  adorning. 
80  v  paths,  'twere  well 

To  call  each  gift  a  treasure, 
Howerer  slight,  where  love  can  dwell 

With  life-renewing  pleasure." 


CONTENTMENT  AT  HOME. 


HE  men  who  are  discontented  at  home,  are,  as 


a  rule,  discontented  everywhere.  There  are, 
indeed,  exceptions  to  this  rule,  for  there  are 
those  who  are  better  than  their  homes,  great 
souls  that  have  sprung  up  out  of  vicious 
homes  where  intemperance  and  still  darker 
vices  have  shrouded  their  early  years  in  pain- 
ful memories.  In  such  homes  those  noble 
souls  who,  from  some  favorable  combination 
of  circumstances,  have  risen  above  their  sur- 
roundings, may  well  feel  discontented.  But 
even  in  these  cases  we  may  believe  that  there 
is  still  that  which  justifies  something  of  the 
spirit  of  content.  They  are  discontented  not 
necessarily  with  the  identity  of  the  home 
itself,  but  with  its  condition,  and  if  they 
were  to  surround  themselves  with  the  influ- 
ences of  an  ideal  home  they  would  in  most 
cases  retain  the  identity  of  the  old.  The 
new  house  would  rise  on  the  foundation  of  the  old.  Like 
the  boy's  jack  knife  that  required  a  new  blade  and  a  new 


i  these  were  d  was  to  him  the 

fo    still;  so    many    objects  8c  ;i  subtle 

indfpi>: 

ing  solely  on  aasoci  ite   to    us    • 

With  tl  of  our  home  we 

IM»,  and  ought  to  be,  c  •  h'-  influence  of  our  : 

l>e  evil,  if  its  a:  re  be  injurious,   then   \v< 

.r  lives  in  making   i1  and   in  purify!:. 

atm<  noblest  of  all  forms  of  human  '. 

we   should   find   contentment.     Contentment   is  simply  a 
willingness  to  be  hat  most  any  sphere  or  condition 

of  li:  'lie  necessary  material  for  happiness  if  we 

will  only  aj'j 

if  there  is  any  outward  condition  of  human 

i  which  it  does  not  He  within  one's  power  to  be  con- 

Our  desires  feed  upon  their  own  gratification.     One 

is  always  and  necessarily  d  at  the  moment  of  the 

ion.     It  is  only  when  a  desire  has  been  u: 
fully  gratified  that  the  gratification  fails  to  briiiL' 

;  content.     Hem  •  :tent  is  sub}  :ther 

e.     Now  there   are  no  pain  and  sorrow  like 

hich  the  mind  e\ 

•hin  its  own  dominion,  and  to  which  it  can  assign 
no  adequate  cause.  In  such  cases  the  mind  itself  cannot 
see  why  it  should  feel  discoi  Such  suffering  of  the 

mind  is  analogous  to  nervousness  in  the  body.     How  > 
\re  hear  it  said  of  sensitive  and  complaining  women,  "noth- 


CONTENTMENT  AT  HOME.  233 

ing  ails  her,  she  's  only  nervous."  We  do  not  stop  to  con- 
sider that  nervousness  is  the  most  absolutely  real  of  all 
diseases ;  it  is  the  reality  of  the  unreal,  and  the  unreality 
of  the  real.  With  healthy  nerve  and  an  unvitiated  imagi- 
nation we  may  render  real,  or  divest  of  reality,  whatever 
we  choose.  But  can  the  victim  of  delirium  tremens — can 
the  nervous  patient  render  unreal  the  disease  which  he 
fancies  is  preying  at  his  vitals?  or  can  he  render  real  the 
iact  that  his  imagination  is  disordered  ?  "  nothing  ails  him  ! "' 
There  is  nothing  so  absolutely  real  as  a  delusion.  Nervous- 
ness is  the  only  real  disease.  In  like  manner  the  only  real 
sorrow  is  subjective  sorrow,  that  sorrow  which  the  suffer- 
ing mind  itself  cannot  account  for.  The  great  sorrows  of 
human  experience  arise  from  this  inner  source. 

They  consist  in  a  brooding  discontent,  a  stubborn  refusal 
of  the  mind  to  respond  in  a  satisfactory  manner  to  any  ex- 
ternal stimulant.  The  world  holds  up  to  our  vision  many 
illustrious  examples  of  human  sorrow  and  suffering, — suf- 
fering from  outward  conditions  and  circumstances,  and, 
perhaps,  the  most  noted  of  these  is  that  almost  typical  char- 
acter, Job.  But  the  illustrious  examples  of  that  other  sor- 
row, the  world  can  never  see,  for  it  is  the  sorrow  of  mid- 
night and  silence.  It  is  a  sorrow  which  cannot  be  shared, 
and  one  which  the  world  will  not  recognize.  We  can, 
however,  see  its  fruits,  for  it  sometimes  bears  the  divinest 
fruit,  but,  as  with  the  tree  of  evil  everywhere,  the  tree 
which  bore  it  must  first  be  cut  and  burned.  'Tis  from  the 


234 


't    fruit  divine  .  He 

t  of  in  into 

the  sweet  f  peace  and  con: 

in  the  gr.  t  sense  of  the  v 

re  reste  :  iore  a  crown  of  \ 

Discontent,  then,  is  in  aim  y  case  t 

11,  a  continual 
something  more  than 

most  awful  form  of  human  disease  in  which  the  < 
objects  and  the  cognizing  faculties  are  out  of  gear.     '• 
for  disconUM:;  '     \\V  have  said 

desires  feed  u  n  gratification,  and  the  kind  of 

food  determines  the  kind  of  desires.     An  unlawlV 
:i  produces  in  its  turn  another  unlawful  <: 

re  is  no  natural  object  or  circus  : 
respond  to  an  unlawful  desire,  it  full" 

M  objects  and  circumstances  are  natural,  the  unL 
•:  must  remain  ungr.it  ified,  and 

aiiig  and  discontent  must  also  remain,  till  unlawful 
<>n  has  been  obtained  :ore. 

:ient  illustration  of  this  view  of  the 
be  seen  in  the  1  of  a  si  i 

ilized  people  this  is  the  condition  of  al- 
most every  one's  appetite.     Every  one  knov 
he  is  hungry  a  simple  piece  of  dry  bread 

the  hunger;    lnit   let  him  cover  it  with  highl;. 


CONTENTMENT  AT  HOME.  235 

soned  sauce,  and  after  partaking  of  it  attempt  to  go  back 
to  the  dry  bread,  be  will  find  that  it  tastes  insipid  and 
does  not  satisfy  him.  If,  however,  he  had  taken  a  juicy 
pear  instead  of  the  spicy  sauce,  he  could  have  returned  to 
the  dry  bread  with  satisfaction.  Here  then  lies  a  princi- 
ple. The  dry  bread  and  the  pear  both  sustain  a  normal 
relation  to  our  appetites,  and  gratify  a  lawful  desire,  but 
not  so  with  the  sauce ;  for  spices  and  artificial  flavors 
were  never  meant  to  satisfy  a  healthy  appetite.  There  is 
nothing  in  a  healthy  appetite  that  corresponds  to  them. 
The  dry  bread  and  the  pear,  feeding  nothing  but  a  healthy 
and  lawful  desire,  in  their  turn  give  rise  to  a  healthy  and 
lawful  desire  ;  and  this,  dry  bread  can  satisfy.  But  the 
sauce  satisfying  an  unnatural,  and  hence  unlawful,  appe- 
tite, gives  rise  to  nothing  but  unhealthy  and  unlawful  de- 
sires, and  these  the  dry  bread  cannot  satisfy.  Apply  the 
principle  involved  in  this  illustration,  and  the  solution 
which  it  suggests  to  the  higher  faculties  of  the  mind,  and 
you  have  the  whole  philosophy  of  discontent.  But,  says 
one,  shall  we  follow  out  this  doctrine  to  its  full  extent,  and 
seek  to  awaken  no  desire  which  our  surrounding  circum- 
stances cannot  gratify  ?  If  discontent  consists  simply  in 
un gratified  desires,  then  it  would  be  reasonable  to  suppress 
all  desires  that  we  cannot  gratify.  But  would  not  this  be 
fatal  to  all  progress  ?  Would  it  not  tend  to  keep  us  for- 
ever on  the  dead  le\el  of  the  present?  There  is  an  infi- 
nite difference  between  the  absolute  inability  to  gratify  a 


IM 

desire,  and  the  mere  inability  to  gr 

; ratify  at  once  his  desire  for  foo«l 
suspension  of  the  gt  >n  does  not  result  in  <1; 

>erhap&,  knows  that  his  diligent  search   will 
make  the  gratification  still  keener  when  it  comes.     S<.  the 
•ig  man  v  res  to  be  great  and  useful  nee<l 

ly  because  he  is  unable  to  j 
II.     higl      :  di  m  his  co: 

>n  of  its  final  gratification.     There  is  a  continual 
;  ly  in  the  prospect  of  ultimate  g: 

ire  that  it  is  absolutely  impo^- 
in  to  gratify,  tlu-n  the  quicker  it  is  crushed,  ti. 
If  a  cripple   should  become  ambitious  to  be  an  acr 

;4  of  that  ambition  could  lead  to  nothing 
:i  crush  all  »1  ;it  canimt,  in  the 

nature  of  things,  be  .-  Crush  all  unlawful  d( 

seek  to  ill  lawful  ones,  and  contentment  will 

lie  necessary  result. 

"  Sweet  are  the  thoughts  that  savor  of  content— 

The  i j  -  richer  than  a  crown. 

Sweet  are  the  night*  In  careless  slumber  spent, 
The  poor  estate  scorn*  fortune's  angry  frown; 
Such  sweet  content,  such  minds,  such  sleep,  such  bliss, 
Beggars  enjoy,  when  princes  oft  do  miss. 

"  The  homely  boose  that  harbors  quiet  rest. 

The  cottage  that  affords  no  pride  or  care, 
The  mien  that  'grees  with  isic  beat, 

The  sweet  consort  of  mirth  and  mnsic's  fare, 
Obscured  life  sets  down  a  type  of  bliss: — 

A  mind  content  both  crown  and  kingdom  is." 


VISITING. 


O  long  as  man  remains  a  social  being,  visiting 
will  constitute  a  part  of  his  avocations.  Man 
is  a  fragment  of  being,  as  each  star  is  a  frag- 
ment of  the  firmanent.  And  as  the  stars  are 
never  at  rest;  as  they  revolve  around  each 
other ;  as  the  smaller  ones  seei*.  to  select  the 
larger  ones  as  centers  whose  superior  attrac- 
tion guides  and  maps  out  their  path, — so  men 
arrange  themselves  in  society  in  accordance 
with  a  similar  law. 

There  are  suns  and  planets  and  asteroids  in 
human  society,  and  these  take  their  proper 
places  by  an  eternal  law  of  human  affinity. 


Man  is,  in  his  individuality,  an  imperfectly  adapted  be- 
ing. The  divine  declaration,  "  It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be 
alone,"  long  before  it  was  written  by  human  pen  was  writ- 
ten in  the  nature  of  man  by  virtue  of  this  law,  that  man  is 
but  fragmentary. 

Hence  the  necessity  and  philosophy  of  society  and  of  the 
custom  of  visiting.  A  home  without  visitor  is  not  a  per- 
fect home,  inasmuch  as  the  members  of  that  home  cann  >*• 


become  \  un- 

lew  they  con  with  il. 

all  seen  »ui-h  homes 

.itiilics  that  i 

stance  is  eliminated  from  ; 

In  such  cases  > 
:  enee  and  builds  around  it  c-aae, 

(dually  shut 
organism,  as  it  were  in  a  prison.    Society  lias  the  same 

:          .ets,  and  \\iu-n  it 

in  the  form  of  a  famil  te  of  fellow  sympatl 

ho  do  not  visit  nor  receive  ^ 

all  vital  connection  with  tin-in  ami  endows  th<-m  with;: 
n  walls  of  their  own  reserv.  .     With  what  pit 

looks  upon  such  a  family!     II  i  the 

children  point  to  the  home  a  elling  of  some  : 

to  taunt  the  inmates  as  the  par: 
•int  the  barn  fowl.     We  pity  th 

family.    We  have  often  v  the  source  of  their 

enjoyment  can  be.    That  same  coldness  and  lacl 
makes  them  shun  the  w.-rld,  nvst 
will  make  them  cold  .".nd  distant  in  one  another's  E 

)i  homes  are  usually  the  abodes  of  gi  It 

is  a  curi«  that  thc-e  families  soon  bee  inct. 

live  but  a  few  generations  at  best,  becon  and 


VISITING.  239 

vicious,  and  finally  die  out,  and  leave  the  world  no  better 
and,  perhaps,  no  worse. 

There  is  a  lesson  in  this  fact,  not  only  a  moral  lesson, 
but  a  lesson  in  science  as  well.  There  is  no  subject  that 
men  have  studied  so  little  as  the  science  of  human  nature , 
although  it  is  the  grandest  subject  that  can  engross  the 
human  intellect.  They  have,  however,  developed  a  few 
grand  results,  and  one  of  them  is  the  law  that  governs  the 
phenomenon  we  have  just  referred  to.  The  discovery  was 
made,  however,  not  by  a  direct  study  of  human  nature, 
but  chiefly  by  observation  on  the  lower  octaves  in  life's 
scale.  This  law  is  known  as  the  law  of  the  "survival  of  the 
fittest."  It  teaches  that  when  a  being  or  a  faculty  ceases 
to  act  in  a  manner  consistent  with  the  general  good  it  is 
destroyed  by  a  power  of  natural  selection. 

Nature  does  this  in  self  defense.  When  a  being  violates 
the  laws  of  his  nature  he  is  destroyed  if  he  persists  in  the 
violation.  When  he  persists  in  the  violation  of  his  moral 
nature  he  dies  as  a  moral  being,  although  he  may  still  sur- 
vive as  a  physical  and  intellectual  being.  If  he  violates 
his  intellectual  nature  he  dies  as  an  intellectual  being.  If 
his  social  nature,  then  he  dies  as  a  social  being.  But  these 
calamities  are  not  confined  to  the  individual  alone.  The 
organic  weakness  resulting  from  his  violation  is  transmitted 
to  his  children,  who  transmit  to  their  offspring  in  still 
greater  degree  the  iniquity  of  the  fathers,  till  finally  the 
family  becomes  too  weak  to  perpetuate  itself.  . 


i.s  do 

• 

h  families  seldom  d<>  :  id  much  in;  ,mse 

•.\itli  the  ,  of  tin-  p«->t 

the  greatest  t  nf  efl'ort  and  the  least  expenditi: 

its  forces.    Since  roan  i.s  but  a  frag 

presence  of  his   supplementary  fragments  to  develop  hid 
I 

As  woman  is  essential  to  man  and  man  :  :i  in 

order  to  call   out  and  develop  the  latent  pos>ibiliti< 
each,  so  every  human  being,  in  order  to  call  forth 
est  possibilities,  must  dded  to  his  su; 

humanity.      1:  lose  his  identity  in  the  great  cu; 

of  human  want  before  he  can  find  it  again  in  a  larger  and 
grander  sense. 

••  muscle  grows  strong  most  rapidly  when  it  wastes 
most  rap  i<  The  magnet  grows  powerful  by  imparting 

its  magi)  to   iron   and   steel.     Tl. 

grows  wise  by  impan  !  >m.     The  rose  fills  all  tl 

with  t  gift  of  im  :h  the  little  rail- 

way tunnels  fly  the  trains  that  bear  from  nature' 
tory  the   precious  freight   that  still 
• 
Now  social  interco  process  of  imparting1 


VISITING.  241 

to  others  a  portion  of  ourselves.  When  the  rose  begins  to 
hoard  its  fragrance,  it  dies.  So  when  man  would  hoard 
his  influence  and  wrap  around  him  the  mantle  of  solitude, 
he  is  fading  away  in  the  noblest  attributes  of  his  being. 

There  is  a  possible  interpretation  of  the  above  that  we 
would  not  wish  to  submit  to  the  test  of  history.  It  is  that 
the  love  of  solitude  is  an  illegitimate  love.  This  inter- 
pretation meets  its  rebuke  in  the  lives  of  poets  and  philoso- 
phers. The  world's  grandest  characters  have  been  lovers 
of  solitude.  There  is  something  pathetically  beautiful  in 
the  yearning  which  poets  have  always  felt  for  the  sweet 
breath  of  nature  untainted  by  the  smoke  and  noxious 
vapors  of  the  city.  There  is  both  a  legitimate  and  an 
illegitimate  love  of  solitude. 

Jesus  loved  solitude  as  probably  no  other  being  ever  did. 
The  honey  bee  loves  solitude,  and  loves  it  for  the  same  rea- 
son that  Jesus  and  the  poets  love  it,  because  guided  by  a 
heavenly  instinct  they  know  that  solitude  alone  can  minis- 
ter to  the  throng,  and  they  are  its  ministers  divinely  elect. 
The  bee  must  leave  the  merry  swarm  and  seek  the  silent 
solitude  where  blush  in  unconscious  beauty  the  wild  rose 
and  the  lily.  So  Jesus,  although  his  heart  was  with  the 
dying  throng,  still  sought  the  lonely  heights,  because  it  was 
there  alone  from  the  divine  flower  of  solitude  that  he  could 
extract  the  honey  for  the  "healing  of  the  nations."  Poets 
love  solitude,  not  from  selfishness.  They  desire  it  as  a 
sick  man  desires  medicine.  It  ministers  to  the  highest 

16 


Ill 

necessities  of  their  1 

:iulti- 

| 

when  ''ing 

train,  and  \\ith  i>mvr  SOIL 

All    :  re   solitude,   l>ut   as   tin-   bee   lor. 

because  t  tiiul  something  tin  : 

hive  of  huinanr 

The  poet  and  t:  -opher  can  mini 

whilf  :nain  in  :  but  not  so  with  t! 

mon  people  ";  the  toiling  men  and  women  \\  ;• 

must  Ir  field  of  labor  in.  the  so  Id.    Tin 

the  gates  of  cottage  and  pal;i 
of   humanity.     Let   us   entrnn  tain    and    be    en' 
is  make  it  a  part  of  our  life  work  to 
n,    and  in    our   turn  derive  from  so 

f  it  ever  comes  to  us  at  all. 

Society  does  not  consist  in  physical  proximity.     It 
not  r  :ig  with  one  another  in  tin-  di  f  fine 

lings  and  costly  tables.     Social  interr 
and  pro:  Contain   its  own   ex<-u><>.      It  mi: 

their  h  of  an  instinctive  ini].'  !e  within 

re  of  mutual  interest,  in  spiritual  as  well 

\5>h  to  recommend  that  practice 
among  certain  classes,  of  ga;!  MI  house 

>se  of  retailing  the  morning  in- 


VISITING.  243 

what  we  mean  by  social  intercourse.  Nor  would  we  recom- 
mend the  "formal  call,"  where  each  family  keeps  a  record 
and  returns  a  call  as  it  would  pay  for  a  barrel  of  flour. 
We  have  no  faith  in  the  book-keeping  of  calls.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  other  relation  of  life  that  fosters  so  much  of  de- 
ception and  falsehood  as  the  system  of  fashionable  calling. 

Mrs.  A.  calls  upon  Mrs.  B.,  who  has  just  settled  in  the 
neighborhood,  because  if  she  were  not  to  do  so,  Mrs.  B. 
would  think  that  Mrs.  A.  was  not  acquainted  with  the 
ways  of  society.  Mrs.  B.  is,  of  course,  delighted  to  see 
Mrs.  A.,  notwithstanding  she  threw  up  her  hands  in  hor- 
ror when  the  door  bell  rang.  When  Mrs.  A.  departs  amid 
the  mournful  protests  of  Mrs.  B.,  Mrs.  B.  has  too  much 
confidence  in  Mrs.  A.'s  "  society  education  "  to  have  any 
fears  that  she  will  heed  the  earnest  and  heartfelt  (?)  entreaty 
to  "  call  again  "  and  not  to  be  "  so  formal." 

Such  calls  involve  the  commercial  instincts  of  our  na- 
ture, for  they  are  regarded  as  merchandise  and  subject  to 
the  laws  of  debit  and  credit.  They  do  not  appeal  to  the 
social  faculty  at  all,  and  hence  have  no  tendency  in  the 
direction  of  its  cultivation,  but  on  the  other  hand  they 
weaken  it,  for  they  are  in  almost  every  case  regarded  as 
painful  duties,  and  it  is  a  law  of  our  being  that  the  painful 
or  disagreeable  action  of  any  function,  whether  physical  or 
mental,  has  a  direct  tendency  to  weaken  the  function  in- 
volved. 

Then,  as  the  first  and  essential  condition  to  the  culti 


f    tllO    !-' 

from  their  ou 

Not  in 

the  feast  where  pride  site  q<u«  M,  l>ut   in  t! 
dres>  ;l"'l  spend  the 

ing  around   each  other's    hearthstone,   n 

as  fa-slii  \\ith 

ill. it   eall.>  foilli  ;' 
which  i  :':!  c;in  f. 

We  cannot  j-ter  than  l.v  (juotiiiij 

words  of  that  almost  is  student  of  human  n;. 

Harriet  Beecher  Sto 

••!      re  ••  -uld  be  a  great  deal  more  obedience  to  tlio 
apostolic   inj  1  to  entertain   stran- 

gers,* if  it  once  conl<;  :ly  ^-t  intu  the  hea«l 

inten  ople  what    it   is  that  strangers  want.     What 

do  you  want  when  away  from  home  in  a  strange  ( ;  N 

it  not  the  warmth  of  the  home  .UMI  tin- 

people  th  I  -  it  not  the  hi- 

;!ege  of  6i»eaking  and  acting  yourself  out  um 
edly  among  those  who  yon   kn«.w  understand  you? 
bad  you  not  rather  dine  with  an  old  friend  on  >imj»!. 
mutton  offered  with  a  warm  heart,  than  go  to  a  splendid 
ceremonious  dinner  j  iong  peojjle  who  don't  cure  a 

for  you  .  then,  set  it  down  in  your  book  that 


VISITING.  245 

other  people  are  like  you,  and  that  the  art  of  entertaining 
is  the  art  of  really  caring  for  people.  If  you  have  a  warm 
heart,  congenial  tastes,  and  a  real  interest  in  your  stranger, 
don't  fear  to  invite  him  though  you  have  no  best  dinner 
set  and  your  existing  plates  are  sadly  chipped  at  the 
edges,  and  even  though  there  be  a  handle  broken  off  from 
the  side  of  your  vegetable  dish.  Set  it  down  in  your  be- 
lief that  you  can  give  something  better  than  a  dinner, 
however  good, — you  can  give  a  part  of  yourself.  You  can 
give  love,  good  will,  and  sympathy,  of  which  there  Las 
perhaps  been  quite  as  much  over  cracked  plates  and  re- 
stricted table  furniture  as  over  Sevres  china  and  silver." 

"  Blest  be  that  spot  where  cheerful  guests  retire 
To  pause  from  toil,  and  trim  their  evening  fire; 
Blest  that  abode,  where  want  and  pain  repair, 
And  every  stranger  finds  a  ready  chair: 
Blest  be  those  feasts  with  simple  plenty  crown'd, 
Where  all  the  ruddy  family  around 
Laugh  at  the  jest  or  pranks,  that  never  fail, 
Or  sigh  with  pity  at  some  mournful  tale, 
Or  press  the  bashful  stranger  to  his  food, 
And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good." 


UNSELFISHNESS  AT  HOME. 


with  a  1  law,  selfishness 

its  own  fii<l-.     '1  li  man,  ;'. 

nature  of  >s,  declare 

•    the    universe,   and   in    that   unequal 
•  is  sure  to  fall.     The  only  way  we 
get  <  our  side  is  to  enlist  in  his  ;r. 

The  conditions  of  our  o\vn  hapj 
so  blended  and  interwoven  with  the  condi- 
of  other's  happiness,  tlia 

our  own  highest  interest  while   we  are  unmindful  of  the 
re  of  others.     There  is  but  one  rational  and  success- 
ful way  in  which  a  man  may  work  for  himself,  and  t! 
by  forgetting  self  in  his  desire  for  the  well-being  of  others. 
Human  society  is  a  vast  machine  in  which  every  man  is  a 
'.,  but  the  wheels  of  a  machine  never  move  independ- 
ently.    No  matter  how  small  and  apparently  in.^i 
may  be,  they  each  perform  an  essential  o: 
their   value   is  represented    in  the  product   of  the   t 
machine. 

Man  is  a  compound  of  function  or  faculties,  and  is  so 
constituted  that  the  action  of  each  produces  plea- 


UNSELFISHNESS  AT  HOME.  247 

only  pleasure.  The  sum  total  of  man's  happiness,  then, 
depends  on  the  number  of  faculties  that  he  brings  into 
healthy  and  normal  exercise. 

One  of  these  faculties  is  conscience,  that  voice  in  the 
soul  which  bids  us  do  right,  and  do  unto  others  as  we 
would  have  them  do  unto  us,  a  duty  that  cannot  be  per- 
formed from  selfish  motives.  But  unless  this  duty  be  per- 
formed, we  are  deprived  of  that  exquisite  pleasure  which 
comes  from  the  approval  of  conscience. 

Another  of  our  faculties  is  benevolence,  whose  legitimate 
function  is  to  prompt  us  to  love  our  neighbor  as  ourselves, 
the  very  essence  of  unselfishness.  But  if  we  through 
selfishness  refuse  to  fulfill  this  function,  we  must  forego 
that  pure  and  exalted  pleasure  of  which  it  has  been  de- 
clared "  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive."  Man 
is  a  social  being,  and  from  his  several  social  faculties  de- 
rives by  far  the  greatest  portion  of  his  happiness ;  but  only 
as  he  observes  the  golden  rule.  For  society  will  not  be 
cheated.  Its  system  of  book-keeping  is  perfect,  and  he 
who  expects  to  receive  from  society  more  than  he  is  will- 
ing to  give  in  return,  will  be  sadly  disappointed. 

And  so  it  is  that  all  those  faculties  which  relate  men  to 
their  fellow  men  can  yield  us  no  pleasure  so  long  as  we 
are  selfish.  By  selfishness  we  are  cut  off  from  the  pleasures 
arising  from  the  action  of  a  large  number  of  the  most  im- 
portant faculties  of  the  mind.  To  use  a  paradox,  the  only 
rational  and  consistent  selfishness  is  that  of  unselfishness. 


If  we  desire  our  own  h:  casure  we  <M  oaia 

how 

\\ith  r-  .  the 

1  can  paint  in  that  of  a  h< 

Selfishness   is    fatal    to  the  very  existence   of    1. 

.iy  be  defined  as  an  isolated  portion  of  so* 

stronger  degree  of  love   than  ( 

«-rs  of  the  human   l 
al.      Home  and  ness  are  n< 

their  moaning,  and  cannot  exist  together  any  more  than 
love  and  hate. 

•;-hness.  .1  to  love  :  and  since  love  is  the 

basis  of  h"n.  that  selfishness  is  the  great  de- 

\\nrld.  l.f  who  falls  in  love  with  him- 
.  no  rival  him; 

wnhai'i 

M  connection  with  the  family, 
and  becomes,  in  a  certain  sense,  an  outcast.     T 
perceiving  the  lirotl  .-ss,  will  seek  other  com- 

panions, and  thus  a  coldness  and  indifference  springs  up 

.  brother  an<: 

There  are  many  arguments  in  favor  of  i:  .  l.ut 

we  have  made  prominent  th»  .      W     l.ave, 


THOUGHTFULNESS  FOR  OTHERS. 


UNSELFISHNESS  AT  HOME.  249 

however,  had  a  purpose  in  this.  It  is  to  the  selfish  we 
would  speak.  The  unselfish  require  no  advice  or  exhorta- 
tion, and  from  the  very  nature  of  selfishness  it  cannot  be 
moved  by  any  but  a  selfish  argument. 

Why  is  that  little  street  boy  so  dwarfed  in  his  mental  and 
moral  nature  ?  Why  is  it  usually  so  difficult  to  develop 
one  of  that  class  and  make  him  a  noble  and  powerful  man  ? 
Simply  because  the  selfishness  in  that  wretched  home 
whence  he  came  has  arrested  his  development,  so  that  he  can 
never  be  anything  but  a  child.  He  can  seldom  be  trusted, 
because  the  early  selfishness  at  home,  engendered  by  misery 
and  want,  it  may  be,  has  left  its  demon  cunning  in  his  mind. 

It  is  a  fact  with  which  all  are  familiar,  that  the  character 
is  written  in  the  face.  If  we  cannot  read  it,  it  is  not 
because  it  is  not  written  there,  but  because  of  our  obtuse- 
ness.  Yet  there  are  few  so  obtuse  that  they  cannot  distin- 
guish between  selfishness  and  generosity.  Who  has  not 
noticed  the  narrow,  pinched,  and  indescribably  repulsive 
countenance  of  the  miser?  Who  has  not  contrasted  it 
with  the  open,  frank,  and  attractive  countenance  of  the 
philanthropist  ? 

It  seems  as  if  the  very  selfishness  of  the  world  should 
make  us  unselfish  at  home.  Think  of  the  pain  and  suffer- 
ing that  is  born  of  selfishness !  As  you  gather  round  the 
board  of  plenty  for  the  evening  repast,  or  round  the  roar- 
ing fire  while  the  storm  sends  its  fitful  but  harmless  gusts 
against  the  windows,  think  of  the  pale,  sad  faces  that  are 


pressing  against  the  pane 

I 

.-.;.      1  !i  tliis  sad  thought  in  mi  little 

..-pi  and  sisters  be  selfish  at  II-  -\ 

rel,  as  they  sometime*  do,  •  I>earf 

• 

tther    up  the    leavings  that  .unple  i: 

b,  and  devour  them  with  the  eag' 
ing  dog? 

ung  man  who  is  selfish  ,  .  who  is  eag< 

•••st    apple,  and  does  not 

share  it  with  sister  or  brother.  will  not  \\ith 

children,  when  !  •   a  home, 

beware  of  those  young  i 

do  not  man: 
in  the  sot-iety  of  lad!  only  from  pulley,  or  hi' 

It  is  a  fact  wliii'h  mathematics  alone  cannot 
uore  affection  we  leave  at  home  tl 

There  is  something  in  the  nature  of  -lior 

••f.ii£  the 
.iocs.     '1 

• 
drni.  -  i  haps  because  his  almost  pro\ 

to   our   sympathies.     He    cauuot,   from  the 


PATIENCE.  2.")  3 

would  not  be  merely  an  experiment  upon  the  brute's  intel- 
lect; it  would  involve  tliis  principle  of  patience.  The 
impatience  of  the  brute  in  this  case  would  be  due  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  not  passed  that  stage  in  which  all  gratifi- 
cation is  sought  by  direct  and  uninterrupted  action.  This 
brute  impatience  cannot  go  from  the  object  of  its  desire, 
even  when  intellect  declares  such  an  act  necessary.  It  is 
quite  essential  in  this  experiment,  however,  that  we  select 
the  right  kind  of  brute,  for  there  are  brutes  which  are  en- 
dowed with  a  wonderful  degree  of  patience.  We  may  forci- 
bly illustrate  from  the  brute  kingdom  both  patience  and 
impatience.  Those  which  are  endowed  with  patience  are 
not  usually  those  which  are  most  intelligent.  This  shows 
that  the  phenomenon  in  the  foregoing  experiment  is  not  an 
intellectual  one.  An  ox,  which  possesses  considerable  in- 
telligence, would  stand  and  fret  for  hours  before  it  would 
go  back  from  the  food,  while  the  rat,  which  possesses  far 
less  intelligence,  would  set  itself  to  work  at  once,  and  dig, 
if  need  be,  for  a  whole  night  through  solid  earth.  He 
would  go  back,  or  round,  or  over,  or  under-,  in  short,  he 
would  labor  patiently  till  his  efforts  were  crowned  with 
success.  This  quality  of  patience  in  brutes  does  not  seem 
to  bear  any  relation  to  their  rank  in  the  scale  of  intelli- 
gence, and  yet  it  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  noblest 
attributes,  either  of  man  or  brute ;  for  the  fact  that  a  quality 
is  possessed  by  a  brute  does  not  prevent  it  from  being 
among  the  noblest  human  attributes. 


ssed 

time 

^bestso 

ial  pow. 

..it  in  many  ca-' 

wide  difference  i  ink-lie 

ami    that   attribute  of    the  soul   v 
|  truth.     '!'!:• 

llectual    assent    to    the     highest 
>1   that   element   in  the  soul  whieh   ' 
hold  of  it  as  a  part  of  its  own  living  self, 
lies  between  faith  and  reason,   j 

In  \v  of  the  subject  patience  is  allied  to  faith. 

at  which  makes  us  willing  to  w 

.t  which  makes  us  feel  i'.  \aiting  will  bear  us  a 

•weet  fruit  i 

a  higher  ai  rtue  than  t] 

has  \  at  noble  element    v 

•  •s  time  and  indirect  motion  in  the  gratif: 

I  allied  to  the  divine  instinct  of  the  tree  that 
waits  f"r  the  flower  and  the  fruit. 

Trials,  sorrow,  and  death  await  us  all.     It  is  u~ 
pt  to  escape  ire  inevitable.     1 

en  the  hard  burrs  of  human  But 


PATIENCE,  255 

it  is  only  as  instruments  in  the  hands  of  patience  that  they 
become  ministrant  to  our  development. 

God  imposes  upon  man  the  obligation  to  no  virtue  which 
he  has  not  first  woven  into  the  constitution  of  nature. 
Every  cardinal  virtue  is  first  a  cosmical  law.  Thus  the 
grand  virtue  of  patience  is  eternally  mated  with  nature's 
law  of  constancy.  It  is  the  patience  of  nature  that  rears 
and  completes  the  proud  temple  of  the  oak.  It  is  her  pa- 
tience through  which  the  never-wearying  rootlet  embraces 
the  rocky  ribs  of  the  moveless  boulder.  Through  what 
long  and  weary  ages  has  nature  pounded  on  the  granite 
doors  of  giant  mountains,  pleading  for  the  crumbs  that  fall 
from  the  rocky  tables,  that  she  may  bear  them  down  to  the 
vales,  to  feed  the  hungry  guests  that  wait  in  her  halls  below. 
Through  uncounted  eras  she  has  stood  with  patient  hand 
and  sifted  into  river  beds  and  ocean  depths  the  fine  alluvial 
morsels  that  she  begged  from  miser  mountains.  Thus  does 
patience  bear  the  credentials  of  its  own  divinity.  'T  is  the 
same  patience,  divinely  born,  that  we  trace  through  all  the 
instinctive  movements  and  laborious  life  of  bee,  and  spider, 
and  architectonic  beaver.  The  great  law  of  patience  bears 
the  same  divine  approval,  whether  we  find  it  in  the  silent 
couseculiveness  of  natural  law,  in  the  tireless  movements 
of  the  laboring  ant,  in  the  sweet  innocence  of  childhood 
building  its  play-house,  in  the  stern  bread-battle  of  human 
life,  r.i  the  pale,  wasting  vigilance  of  the  brain-toiling,  star- 
reading  scientist,  or  in  divine  simplicity,  thorn-crowned 


MM 

been  the  captain 

:i  shiniii 

star*.  ith  it  has  i 

mark  the  career  of    num.      There  is  no  sh; 

human  glory  too  bright  or  too  r 

- 
human  i:n-atiu--s  every  star  that   has 

hand  of  1  yon  <•  \\ith 

of  midnight    darkness.      It    is   ] 

eru>h»-d  ;  .ind  wrought  sublime  reforms  in  hu- 

•.unl  up  and  inret  the 

taunts  of  ign  .:id  liigotry  ;  pat:          .  ilmly 

\valkr.l  Lack  into  the  >hado\v  of.'.  .;li  "Thy  \\  ; 

done  "  upon  its  lips  ;  par 
smoke  of  torment  with  upti;:  \v. 

Truly  has   it   been  said,    -  i  eom forts  the  ; 

ami  mod  •  rirl» ;  slie  niak- 

ity,  cheerful  !  .  unmoved  !•;. 

reproarli 
US,  and  to  !•<•  tlie  fir>t   in   ask 

the  faithfu1. 
' 
the  i:  'ifnl  in  < 

It   i  .  :.not 


PATIENCE.  257 

wait ;  and  here  again  the  accusation  must  rest  with  pecu- 
liar emphasis  on  Young  America.  We  have  yet  to  learn 
from  orchard  and  garden  that  the  best  in  nature  ripens 
slowest.  The  American  child  has  much  to  learn  in  this 
respect,  from  English  and  German  children,  especially  the 
latter  ;  the  Germans  are  the  world's  models  of  patience. 

The  American  boy  reads  the  life  of  some  eminent  man, 
and  immediately  he  is  fired  with  a  desire  to  be  like  him. 
He  ignores  the  elements  of  time  and  indirect  action.  He 
sets  aside  the  factor  of  life's  developing  hardships,  and  en- 
tertains the  insane  idea  that  he  can  be  like  his  ideal  in  a 
short  time.  He  buys  advanced  works  on  his  special 
theme.  He  cannot  stop  to  master  the  elementary  works. 
His  theory  is  that  the  greater  includes  the  less.  He  sits 
up  late  at  night,  vainly  trying  to  comprehend  his  ponder- 
ous books,  until  he  becomes  discouraged  and  abandons  all 
further  attempts  to  be  a  great  man. 

Now  the  fact  of  his  wild  enthusiasm  proves  that  he  had 
in  him  the  elements  of  greatness,  a  greatness  that  would 
have  justified  his  aspirations,  had  not  the  American  vice 
of  impatience  crushed  it  in  the  bud.  The  world  is  full  of 
such  defeated  greatness.  Genius  with  patience  is  invinci- 
ble and  divine,  but  without  patience  it  is  a  blind  Ulysses 
groping  in  the  darkness. 

"  Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen," 

only  because  it  insists  on  being  seen  before  it  has  blos- 
somed, and  the  world  will  not  look  at  it. 

17 


IM 

•i  are  apt  to  be  in  too  much  of  a  hur. 

' 

lad 

"  Learn  to  labor  and  to  w 

Hut  the  great  majority  .  t-n  seem 

f  life  is  to 

in  their  teens.  Ami  nidi  one>  . 
exceedingly  lofty  object,  from  t 
who  commence  an  education  with  such  fooli.-h  : 

It   in  their  pursuit  of  ki 
at  about   that   time.     They  are  IP 

>tock  of   forced   knowledge   wlm-h   they   luing 
college.     And,  in  such  ease-  udly 

a  great  amount,  from  t!  .e  to 

college  too  early  to  make  it  of  much 
;••   that    many   : 

^e  education  \vl.  £,  but  i: 

because  i  ••  l»y  na;  itliont  im]>a 

te.     Their  genius  1. 

hieli   Co: 
ofgeniu>.     It  i-  foreign  to  it,  and  n 

:i  \\itli  talei/ 

Genius  e  .n  a,  special  aptitude  for  1. 

t  labor. 

Our  common  schools  are  a  living  monument  of  the  im- 
;        nee  of  America,  and  k  impossible  that  the 


PATIENCE.  259 

• 

monument  may  yet  crumble  with  its  own  weight,     They 

may  yet  thwart  the  very  object  of  that  intense  and  head- 
long desire,  of  which  the  impatience  both  of  parents  and 
educators  is  the  expression.  Neither  Greece  nor  Rome 
attained  her  glory  through  such  impatient  culture. 

But  there  is  another  reason  why  we  should  cultivate  pa- 
tience. It  is  conducive  to  health  and  longevity.  No  im- 
patient man  ever  died  of  old  age.  Impatience  is  a  friction 
in  the  wheels  of  life.  Intemperance  will  not  wear  out  the 
machinery  of  life  sooner  than  impatience.  And  not  only 
does  the  patient  man  live  longer  than  the  impatient  man, 
when  length  of  life  is  computed  in  years  and  months,  but 
he  also  lives  longer  in  another  and  important  sense.  In 
computing  the  duration  of  a  human  life  in  the  actual  sense 
of  life,  if  we  wish  to  obtain  the  result  in  minutes  and  sec- 
onds, we  must  strike  out  from  the  calculation  all  those 
minutes  and  seconds  in  which  he  does  not  live  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word.  This  would  include  all  periods  of  un- 
consciousness, of  intoxication,  and  of  mental  alienation. 
In  short,  all  moments  which  when  past  leave  in  our  nature 
no  rational  record  of  their  passage. 

Now  the  patient  man  has  a  calm  and  rational  apprecia- 
tion of  each  moment  of  his  conscious  life,  and  his  moments 
of  unconsciousness  are  fewer  than  those  of  the  impatient 
man.  The  patient  man,  as  a  general  rule,  requires  less  sleep 
than  one  who  is  impatient,  for  the  brain  and  all  the  physi- 
cal powers  require  time  for  recuperation  in  sleep  just  in 


Hut  so  wast*  M!  ami 

tpasi: 

^s  and  feelings  of  th- 
I'm  ;  :  .'t  done  aiiytliii: 

prest*  ''ic  impatient,  whfle  tin-  pati* 

great  deal  but  are  seldom  i  i  '1.     The  ret  Tin; 

iinpa-  n  cannot  stop  to  see  where  to  ta' 

so  takes  hold  several  times,  and  makes  as  i 

movement*,  all  of  which  weary  and  exhai 

man  takes  hold  in  the  right  place  the  fi: 
thus  not  only  saves  time,  but  physical  and  n; 

•*o  whih  :«-nt  man  calmly  and  without  fi: 

accomplishes  life's  mission,  tin-  I  man 

his  powers  and  dies  of  exhaustion  before  he  gets  ready  to 
begin  the  work. 

"  TU  mine  to  work,  and  not  to  win; 

The  Botil  must  wait  to  hare  her  wings; 
Even  time  is  bat  a  landmark  in 
The  great  eternity  of  things. 

"  Is  it  so  much  that  Uiou  below, 

art,  shooldst  fail  of  thy  desire, 
When  death,  as  we  believe  and  know, 
Is  but  a  call  to  come  op  higher  ?  " 


- - 


TEMPERANCE. 


HE  word  temperance,  from  the  Latin  temper* 
antia,  meant  simply  moderation,  and  when  it 
came  to  be  first  applied  with  special  emphasis 
to  the  use  of  alcoholic  beverages  it  meant  only 
a  moderate  use  of  them,  and  did  not  convey 
the  remotest  idea  of  total  abstinence. 

If  the  fate  of  the  temperance  reform  rested 
upon  the  primitive  significance  of  dead  words, 
then,  indeed,  were  its  advocates  hopeless. 

But  no,  the  temperance  reform  and  the 
words  that  designate  its  glorious  sentiment  were  born  to- 
gether, born  amid  the  thunder  storm  of  oppression,  born  of 
the  heartless  parentage  of  hisses  and  of  scorn,  parents  who 
tried  to  strangle  their  own  offspring,  but  could  not  do  it, 
for  it  bore  upon  its  forehead  the  birth-mark  of  immortality. 
Its  birth  was  an  event  that  lay  along  the  inevitable  path  of 
human  development. 

We  will  not  contend  with  those  who  would  prostitute 
their  scholarship  to  rear  a  feeble  argument  upon  the  dusty 
lexicons  of  Greece  and  Rome,  claiming  that  the  world  has 
never  before  found  occasion  for  a  word  to  designate  the 


•J-'V! 

total  abstinence  from  intoxicating  beverages.    We  have 
no  wish  t  thoM  old  roots  that 

lie  dead  and  brittle  in  iges. 

These  d  MS  were  assigned  by  an  infant  wnrM,  but 

it  has  outgrown  them  now.     \\'<  ,  t},e 

word  "star"  signified  to  us  only  a  shining  speck,  only  a 

hole  to  let  the  light  of  heaven  through."     1'. 
our  ampler  viMon  they  are  the  chariots" 
across  the  longitudes  of  night.     AV  ts  of 

human  thought.     They  are  born  amM 
that  accompany  the  aggressions  of  ink-!'.  con- 

irked  by  the  birth  of 
:he  death  of  an  old  one.     Like  the  corpuscles  of  the 

re  springing  into  being  and  dying  with  « 
pulsation  of  the  world's  brain. 

are  but  the  moss-covered  monuments  that  mark  the  < 
teries  of 

do  not  mean,  of  course,  that   there  literally  comes 
use  a  new  word  with  every  new  M< -a.     Much  less  do 

that  a  word  actually 

that  language  is  a  thing  of  growth,  that  it  is  mo«i 
to  meet  the  ever  changing  conditions  of  human  unfolding, 

:hat  words  pass  out  of  use  or  change  their  : 
with  every  outgrown  idea. 

!!••  v,  ho  does  not  dare  advocate  the  temperance  cause  to- 

lest  and  form  fea  coward,  and  in 

a  certain  sense  a  dead  weight  upon  society.     But  those  who 


TEMPERANCE.  263 

steal  the  livery  of  science  and  clothe  themselves  in  the  cun- 
ning drapery  of  sophistry  and  become  the  hired  pleaders 
for  passion  and  for  vice,  deserve  the  everlasting  execration 
of  humanity.  If  we  summon  the  saddest  meaning  that 
"doom"  possesses  it  is  but  mild  beside  their  crime.  To 
misinterpret  the  divine  message  of  science,  and  thus  place 
in  the  hands  of  vice  the  devil's  magic  wand,  is  the  crown- 
ing sin  of  man. 

And  yet  there  are  hundreds  that  incur  this  guilt.  Men 
whose  names  ensure  their  recognition  seek  to  defend  their 
own  vices  with  the  awe  inspiring  weapons  of  high  sound- 
ing technicalities  and  scientific  phrases.  Such  are  those 
who  tell  us  that  alcohol  is  transformed  into  nervous  tissue, 
that  it  is  a  respiratory  food,  etc.  They  tell  us  that  it  is 
nerve  food,  because  its  use  occasions  a  greater  manifesta- 
tion of  strength  and  nervous  energy.  A  conflagration  in  a 
city  is  usually  attended  with  considerable  activity  on  the 
part  of  its  citizens,  but  fires  are  not  generally  regarded  as 
desirable  stimulants  to  industry.  War  is  always  the  occa- 
sion of  a  nation's  highest  energy,  but  shall  we,  therefore, 
say  that  war  is  a  source  of  strength,  and  that  it  feeds  a 
nation  with  the  elements  of  energy  ?  Is  it  not  rather  a 
wasting  process,  and  is  not  the  strength  manifested  in  its 
expenditure  rather  than  in  its  accumulation  ?  -We  see  the 
energy  as  it  goes  out  from  the  nation  in  a  wasting  stream, 
and  not  as  it  goes  in. 

Just  so  with  the  nervous  energy,  it  manifests  itself  in  its 


M4 

outward  passage.      1 

cast  out 

. 

•    suinn.  \vitb 

.0  to  cast  out  tlic  i  ance, 

• 

\v  this  ;  Inesg, 

an  increased  \  irt  and  .1  s'.velli.. 

is  because   the    vital  forces  are  aroi:  •  the 

spot  to  see  v,  :  'the 

:  y  of  fir.  .  i  n  ell- 

ing  of  the  city,  in  the  part  a!. 

id    infla: 
almost   exact!}*    wha:  Tho 

is  striking,  and  indi  i  a  dciiht  t; 

ion  principle  is  involved  in  l»oth  cases.     W: 

i  have  ascertained  what  i  yset 

es  to  work  to  cast  tl  out.     They  thr.iw  up 

around  it  a  secretion  \vhi  it  c»fl"  from  all  conn* 

••in,  and  isolates  it,  and  after  a  short  time  ifc 
>  out  of  its  own  accord. 

in  the  same  way  these  vital  in  the 

'.ol  to  the  surfa;  ^kin,  and  lungs. 

kidneys,  and  hrain.     This  is  why  1<  :    alcohol  has 

been  drunk,  its  odor  may  be  detected  in  the  breath.    With 

every  breath  it  is  thrown  out  from  the  lungs.     The  odor 


TEMPERANCE.  265 

may  also  be  detected  in  the  perspiration.  As  it  is  borne 
along  the  circulation  to  the  brain,  it  excites  that  organ  to 
an  unnatural  degree  of  activity,  or  if  the  dose  is  too  great, 
the  vital  instincts  give  up  the  attempt  for  a  time,  the  brain 
sinks  into  a  torpid  state,  and  the  person  is  said  to  be  dead- 
drunk. 

But  alcohol  is  said  to  be  a  respiratory  food,  meaning 
that  it  is  burnt  in  the  body  like  the  carbon  of  our  food, 
that  it  unites  with  the  oxygen  in  the  lungs  and  thus  in 
many  cases  prevents  the  tissues  from  consuming  them- 
selves. 

There  is  but  one  solitary  fact  that  by  any  method  of 
manipulation  can  be  made  to  take  the  semblance  of  an  ar- 
gument in  support  of  this  theory,  and  that  one  fact  is  that 
alcohol  warms  the  system.  But  cayenne  pepper  warms 
the  system,  so  does  quinine,  so  does  sulphuric  acid,  so 
does  pain,  so  does  intense  joy,  so  does  laughter,  so  does 
love,  so  does  hate,  so  do  spasms  and  convulsions,  so  does 
rheumatism,  so  does  a  fever,  so  does  the  cramp  colic. 

All  these,  of  course,  are  respiratory  food,  since  they 
"  warm  the  system."  It  is  true  that  our  scientists  (?) 
have  not  yet  succeeded  in  demonstrating  that  the  cramp 
colio  is  oxidized  in  the  lungs,  but  we  can't  tell  what  the 
future  may  develop. 

When  one  is  suddenly  awakened  from  sleep  to  find  that 
he  must  engage  in  a  hand  to  hand  fight  with  a  midnight 
assassin,  we  have  a  striking  illustration  of  what  takes  place 


Mfl 

when  the  assassin  a!  -r  "f  tl 

soul.      I  reign 

. 
a8k:> 

it  through  the  open  door  of  tin-  skin. 
iings,  or  the  brain.      '  f  the 

which  alcohol  occasions.      : 
<>f  tl.  in  tla-i:  t    to  rid 

deadly  foe.     The   midnight    light,  ju-  •  mild 

be  a  wanning  process,  but  \ve  have  H.M  r  k 
.-.s  to  prescribe  midnight  assassins  as  rt 
food.     \\' •  ::ne,   however,   that    they   might    take   the 

place  of  most  of  the  nostrums  of  i\\<  with 

disadva  suflfering  part  of  tin-  (•(•nnnunity. 

We  must  lock  lu'yond 

Good  Templars  for  the  si  aiice 

refo: 

Organization  is  essential  to  the  success  of  a  •  re- 

form, l»ut  it  is  simply  the  machim-ry  that  is  driv. 

'.  vc.hi- 

The  solution  of  {}.•  than 

ry  of  the  "pass  word."      It  li».->  in  the  kno\\  ] 
of  natural  law,  in  tl,  M  <-f  the  people. 

i  the  people  learn  t!  -ison  in  all  4iian- 

and  under  all  c:  .  whf-n  they  learn  that  it 

may 
look  for  gratifying  re>uh>  in  the  temperance  reform. 


TEMPERANCE.  207 

The  world  has  too  little  faith  in  nature  and  too  much 
in  medicine.  Disease  itself  is  a  curative  effort  of  na> 
ture,  and  is  not  a  thing  to  be  conquered  by  a  poison, 
but  an  action  to  be  regulated  by  favorable  conditions.  So 
long  as  people  possess  that  insane  faith  in  the  efficacy  of 
medicine,  so  long  will  they  believe  anything  that  unprinci- 
pled physicians  (?)  may  choose  to  tell  them  about  alcohol. 
The  contest  is  between  true  philosophy  and  the  lingering 
superstition  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  mental  feature  of  the  sav- 
age man  is  his  superstitious  fear  of  medicine  and  the 
"  medicine  man."  The  world  has  always  advanced  just  as 
fast  as  it  has  lost  faith  in  medicine. 

There  is  one  fact  with  which  the  temperance  reform  has 
to  contend,  more  formidable  than  all  others  combined.  It 
is  the  fact  that  people  so  readily  yield  to  the  argument  of 
their  feelings.  It  requires  much  intellectual  courage  not 
to  believe  what  our  feelings  tell  us. 

It  is  a  fact  that  alcohol  often  makes  people  feel  better. 
It  elevates  their  spirits  and  makes  them  feel  strong,  buoy- 
ant and  hopeful.  Under  such  circumstances  it  requires 
almost  a  divine  argument  to  convince  them  that  they  are 
not  being  benefited. 

Temperance  will  triumph  when  the  argument  of  reason 
becomes  stronger  than  that  of  feeling  with  the  masses. 
We  are  so  constituted  that  our  feelings  are  generally  final 
in  their  authority.  Hence  the  necessity  of  distinguishing 


between  the  significance  of  the  natural  ;.  Artificial. 

Peo]  bo  taught  to  do  tl.  n  we  can  expect 

i  to  aba:  use  of  a 

.on  shall  this  be  brought  about?    Surely  not  bj 
legislation,  not  by  seizures  and  fines,  but 
laborious  process  of  education.     This  education  inu 

::c,  and  must  be  directed  for  the  most  part  t 
ing  generation.     The  pathetic  stories  of  <1  drunk- 

ards may  hav  influence  in  shaping  public  h« 

but  a  hey  can  be  only  >  a  more  sul 

tial  and  abiding  force.     Legal  measures  may  serve 
purpose,  but  the  reformatory  efforts  should  be   dir 
mainly  to  the  securing  of  that  condition  which  shall  ren- 
der legal  measures  unnecessary.     This  condition  must  be 
sought  in  the  education  of  the  children,  who  not  only  must 
be  taugl.  -tingui.sh  the  significance  of  natural 

.d  appetites  from  the  unnatural  and  abnormal,  but 
their  /  and  education  must  be  such  tl. 

have  no  unnatural  and  abnormal  appetites,  t "n natural 
appetites  are  the  product  of  wrong  physical  training,  and 
intempei  'ie  product  of  unnatural  appetit>>.  Hence 

wrong  training  is  the  origin  of  intemperance. 

In  our  <>n  home  training  we  have  spoken  of  the 

process  by  which  wrong  ]  training  produces  drunk- 

peat  its  however,  for  ;e  of 

..il  emphasis.     All  that  is  necessary  to  make  a  drunk- 

S  first,  a  good  healthy  boy  as  material  j  and  second, 


TEMPERANCE.  269 

plenty  of  candy,  pastry,  pickles,  anc  iaedicine  as 'tools. 
Any  mother  with  such  an  outfit  can  m  m  -facture  a  drunk- 
ard. The  process  is  extremely  simple,  ^"imkenness,  as 
we  have  said,  is  the  product  of  a  diseased  or  unna^'iral 
appetite,  and  the  appetite  may  be  diseased  or  rendered 
unnatural  by  taking  advantage  of  the  slight  caprice  which 
all  appetites  possess,  especially  in  the  civilized  world,  thus 
causing  it  to  accept  at  times  that  which  it  otherwise  would 
not,  and  which  it  does  not  naturally  crave. 

Unnatural  appetites  crave  unnatural  food,  and  accord- 
ingly unnatural  food  will  in  its  turn  induce  an  unnatural 
appetite ;  so  that  all  a  mother  who  desires  to  experiment 
in  this  direction  has  to  do  is  to  give  her  boy  unnatural 
food,  and  every  mother  knows  what  we  mean  by  unnatural 
food.  It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  enumerate  the  many 
articles  to  which  this  adjective  is  applicable.  The  phrase 
at  once  suggests  to  the  ordinary  mind  the  abominations  of 
spice,  pickle,  pork,  and  pastry,  that  fill  the  dining-halls  of 
civilization  with  their  sickly  odors,  that  would  nauseate 
the  healthier  appetites  of  the  South  Sea  Island  cannibals. 

The  mother  who  desires  to  make  a  drunkard  must  tam- 
per with  her  boy's  appetite  by  offering  him  that  which 
he  does  not  crave;  by  compelling  him  to  go  without  a 
meal  as  a  punishment  for  some  offense,  and  thus  become 
very  hungry,  so  that  he  will  be  sure  to  overeat  at  the  next 
meal ;  by  compelling  him  always  to  eat  all  that  he  happens 
to  have  in  his  plate  whether  he  desires  it  or  not,  instead  of 


teaching  him  to  .1  linife  an 

1 

some."     She  a   grea 

cooking.     She  sh  •  y  as 

possible, 

itutc  an  art:  :ie.     She   should  :iifesfc 

should 

up  his  strength."     She  should,  of  co; 
of  candy— it  is  good  for  the  teeth,  t:  >eth. 

ore  importance  than  nng  els< 

should    dose    him    freely    with    medicine    wl 

posed.     1  came  near  forge 

to  advise  a  free  use  of  tea  and  coffee. 

\\Y  hare  said  l»ut  little  about  intemperance  in  ' 
nary  way.     We  have  told  n  ^  of  neglected  wives 

and  broken-!.  rs.     \\"  ,-e  of  the 

subject  to  the  sentimental  lecturer.     But  we  have  giv« 
language  son:  :»niral,  that  which  we  believe  the  peo- 

ple need,  and  that  which  <•  ther-ought  to  refleet  upon. 

The  one  fact  which  we  !  d  to  make  proii:' 

that  the  aj»petite  for  alcoholic  bevera  ot  necessarily 

induced  Averages  themselves,  but 

be  created   by  the  use  of  whatever  inflames  the  system,  or 

iie  taste. 

It  is  sufficient  simply  to  state  that  the  pre<l  u  to 

alcoholic  int.  aay  be,  and  often  is,  transmitted 


TEMPERANCE.  271 

from  parent  to  child.  This  is  a  fact  which  is  very  gener- 
ally known,  but  it  is  not,  perhaps,  so  generally  known, 
that  it  is  often  transmitted  from  grandparent  to  grand- 
child, thus  passing  over  one  and  sometimes  two  generations 
of  temperate  parents.  The  fact  that  intemperance,  or  a 
tendency  to  intemperance,  is  thus  hereditary,  should  render 
all  parents  doubly  vigilant  in  the  training  of  their  children. 
We  have  aimed  in  this  chapter  at  a  deeper  considera- 
tion of  the  subject  of  temperance  in  its  relation  to  the 
home  life  than  a  mere  enumeration  of  those  superficial 
evils  of  which  society  is  chiefly  cognizant.  The  follow- 
ing poem  with  sufficient  accuracy  portrays  this  class  of 
evils : — 

"  Now  horrid  frays 

Commence,  the  brimming  glasses  now  are  hurled 
With  dire  intent;  bottles  with  bottles  clash 
In  rude  encounter,  round  their  temples  fly 
The  sharp-edged  fragments,  down  their  battered  cheeks 
Mixed  gore  and  cider  flow ;  what  shall  we  say 
Of  rash  Elpenor,  who  in  evil  hour 
Dried  an  immeasurable  bowl  and  thought 
To  exhale  his  surfeit  by  irriguous  sleep, 
Imprudent?  him  death's  iron  sleep  oppressed, 
Descending  from  his  couch;  the  fall 
Luxed  his  neck-joint  and  spinal  marrow  bruised. 
Nor  need  we  tell  what  anxious  cares  attend 
The  turbulent  mirth  of  wine ;  nor  all  the  kinds 
Of  maladies  that  lead  to  death's  grim  care, 
Wrought  by  intemperance,  joint  racking  gout, 
Intestine  stone,  and  pining  atrophy, 
Chill,  even  when  the  sun  with  July  heats 
Fires  the  scorched  soil,  and  dropsy  all  afloat, 
Yet  craving  liquids:  nor  the  Centaurs'  tale 
Be  here  repeated:  how,  with  lust  and  wine 
Inflamed,  they  fought,  and  spilt  their  drunken  souls 
At  feasting  hour." 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME. 


Hi:   i: ,-tiuition  of  home  is  in  it 
appli  >f  the  law  of  econon     .      I 

• 

ithin  the  ol  n  of  soci- 

. 

adage,  that   i  1  woman  can  live  at 

expense    together    than    separate 
certainly  a  b<  >n,  offering  as  it 

inducement  :  .  the  home  life. 

Nature  is  tl  economist.     She  nt 

ami  yet-  --nevolent  of  all  will 

:x-d  fruits,  and  yet  she  no  way  even  h- 

cayed  products,  but  turns  them  into  her  h;' 
makes  them  over  into  good  fruit,  a  subtle  r  the 

unfrugal  hoiisewife  v  y  the  remains  of  the 

at  migli 

•onomioal  and  gen( •: 

she  knows  h"-  ;1  without  being  jienurio 

is  not  lazy,  and  yet  she  al  lie  shortest  path.     Of 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME.  273 

two  equally  good  conductors  the  electric  charge  always 
takes  the  shorter.  It  will  even  choose  the  poorer  con- 
ductor rather  than  take  the  longer  one.  The  principle  of 
"least  action"  in  mechanics  is  of  the  same  nature.  These 
facts  show  that  economy  is  a  law  of  nature,  and  pervades 
the  very  soul  of  the  universe. 

But  not  only  is  it  a  law  of  the  outward  universe,  it  is  an 
innate  sentiment  or  instinct  of  human  nature, — and  not 
only  of  human  nature,  but  of  all  conscious  existence.  We 
see  it  manifested  in  the  squirrel,  when  he  gathers  during 
the  autumn  his  store  of  nuts  and  corn  for  his  sustenance 
during  the  coming  winter. 

The  same  instinct  that  prompts  the  squirrel  to  do  this  is 
the  moving  impulse  of  the  great  commercial  world.  In 
both  instances  it  is  simply  an  instinct,  a  faculty  that  brings 
its  possessor  into  sympathy  with  the  economic  law  that 
governs  the  movements  of  nature.  It  is  the  instinct  of 
economy  that  tells  the  worm,  the  bee,  the  cat,  the  dog,  and, 
in  short,  all  animals,  that  a  straight  line  is  the  shortest  dis- 
tance between  two  points,  and  that  makes  it  to  the  human 
intellect  an  axiom. 

The  law  of  economy,  then,  is  simply  that  by  which  all 
necessary  results  in  nature  are  brought  about  with  the  least 
possible  expenditure  of  force,  and  what  we  call  economy  in 
man  is  an  instinctive  appreciation  and  application  of  this 
law. 

To  the  low  and  mean  the  word  economy  signifies  dishon- 

18 


••.t!i>  ili<i 

philc  leans  BO< 

universal  culture.     ^ 
. 
he  who  takr 

.turc  will  not  allow  an  : 

v  rain-drop  to  become  her  niiii'. 

. 

I  disarm  ir  wratl  . 

macy  to  reconei'. 

'  tin-  er. 

gere  pause  upon  the  mountain  sunn: 

Lying 

iin  gorges  a  load  of  timber  from  whi 
fi.ni;  :le  s»>il. 

Slu  the  birds  and  zephyrs  her  hti  :i  to 

>eeds  of  m 
.eck  of  the  proud  lightning. 

.or  sliagj 

on  the  toiling  backs  of  e;irtli4iiakes,  ai. 

. 

oxygen  her  dome 

skillful    fingers  to  n:  '.- -d    and   compli 

s  of  chemical  el 

igher  office  of  attor;  through  hi::. 

the  divorce  of  unhappily  wedded  constituents. 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME.  275 

The  home  is  the  reproduction  of  nature  on  a  small  scale, 
and  not  the  least  so  in  this  matter  of  economy. 

Nature  is  the  pattern  for  the  home,  and  every  man  and 
woman  who  in  any  capacity  represent  a  home  should 
take  advantage  of  her  example,  and  learn  a  lesson  from 
the  way  in  which  she  scrapes  up  her  "odds  and  ends," 
and  utilizes  them.  To  all  of  us  she  says,  "  Accumulate  all 
you  can  ;  employ  every  moment ;  let  no  opportunity  puss 
without  grasping  its  hand  to  see  if  there  is  not  hidden  in 
its  palm  a  golden  coin." 

But  nature  is  no  miser.  Her  economy  does  not  consist 
in  meanness.  She  accumulates  that  she  may  give.  She  is 
honest  and  will  do  as  she  agrees.  We  need  not  take  her 
note,  her  word  is  good.  It  is  a  law  founded  in  the  eternal 
beneficence  of  things,  written  on  every  tree  whose  friendly 
foliage  shields  us  from  the  scorching  sun ;  on  every  spark- 
ling rivulet  that  weeps  soft  tears  of  rain  upon  the  thirsty 
land,  which  in  its  turn  gives  back  the  gracious  tribute  of 
its  shrubs  and  flowers,  and  with  an  answering  compliment 
flings  its  rich  gift  of  roses  to  deck  the  river  banks ;  on 
every  circling  satellite,  upon  the  moon's  sweet  face,  who 
;n  her  modesty  sends  down  to  us  the  flood  of  kisses  which 
the  sun,  her  gallant  lover,  showers  upon  her  blushing 
brow, — on  all  of  these  is  written  the  great  lf>w,  that  to  give 
is  to  receive,  and  whoever  would  receive  must  give. 

The  prudent  farmer,  while  he  is  generous  and  free,  will 
still  allow  no  stream  of  fertility  to  run  to  waste.  While 


171 

he  is  iin!  he  will  still  comjK-l   the 

fcO  saw  his  wood  and 

'       .-.ill  nulls 

no  di>honesty   in    tinning  our 

:o  ;ill  of 

>  do  so. 
r  forces  her  sen 

.  ai;il    lii.w  \ve  \vi>h    1 

it.     We    must    furni>h    the   tools   for    her    to 
And  even  (hen,  if  they  do  not  suit  her.  -lie  \vi!l  : 
She  will  not  dr . 

tar. 

The  reason  why  m*  so   litll- 

past  ages  is  because  she  was  so  particular  about 
could  not  suit  : 

Now    the    highest   economy    is    the    highest     invention. 
That  i-.  :  -t  economical  man,  other  thi: 

.1,  who  is  the  most  skillful  in  devising  tools  for  u. 
to  work  with. 

Home  is  abroad  field  for  the  exerci-e  of  ii:  It 

is  chiefly  in  the  home,  or  in  some  wa  with  do- 

find    that    large    class   of   ii. 
whieh  mini  tly  to  human  comfort. 

It  is  not  neces  r.  that  e 

ful  invention  should  be  the  product  of  an  inventive  genius. 
On  every  farm  and  i:  iioine  there'  arc  tho' 

opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  this  faculty.     The  it 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME.  27? 

tive  farmer  will  make  his  horses  load  his  logs,  while  the 
uninventive  one  must  load  them  himself.  The  inventive 
man  can  repair  his  broken  implements,  while  the  uninven- 
tive must  take  them  to  the  blacksmith's  or  the  carpenter's, 
and  there  pay  so  much  out  of  the  profits  of  his  daily  labor. 
There  is  no  good  reason  why  every  farmer  should  not  be  a 
blacksmith,  a  carpenter,  and  a  wheelwright.  He  could 
then  repair  his  own  buildings,  shoe  his  own  horses  and 
oxen,  and  make  his  own  carriages.  Few,  perhaps,  have 
ever  stopped  to  estimate  how  much  might  be  saved  in  this 
way.  Nearly  all  that  sort  of  work  may  be  done  during 
days  in  which  nothing  profitable  could  be  accomplished  on 
the  farm.  Since  the  farmer's  work  is  so  varied  he  requires 
but  little  absolute  rest.  Hence,  if  he  were  familiar  with 
these  trades,  the  rainy  days  might  be  made  the  most  prof- 
itable ones  of  the  year.  While  nature  is  irrigating  his 
farm,  he  might  be  devising  tools  for  her  to  perform  some 
other  service  with. 

Again,  the  recreation,  the  discipline,  and  the  exercise  of 
mechanical  ingenuity  thus  afforded  would  have  a  devel- 
oping influence  on  mind  and  body.  It  is  a  fact  worth  re- 
membering that  the  men  who  have  made  farming  pay  in 
rocky  New  England  have  nearly  all  been  of  this  sort. 

Every  wife  and  mother  should  be  a  tailoress,  a  milliner, 
and  a  dress-maker.  She  should  know  something  about 
every  article  needed  in  the  household.  There  is  no  reason 
why  she  should  be  obliged  to  take  the  sewing  machine  to 


the  shop,  or  cnll  her  !  should 

to  take   the   rn 
together  again.     She  should  be  able  to  repair  the  churn 

.'.k  pans. 

make  use  of  these  n  lnnents,  they  \\; 

more  readily  to  !• 
She  ca: 

and  fain' 

in  which  k 

I  inventive  skill  will  enable  one  to  save  mom- 
Tli-  '  economy,  how< 

in   saving.     Much  has   been  said,    and   \ 

out  the  saving  of  pennies.     1 

.     That  economy  which 
vingand  does  not  stimulate  the  inventive 
and  -TS  in  the  direction  of  acqnisiti- 

st  sure  to  degenerate  into  :  is  and  \ 

ness.  'he  case  that  the  saving  pro- 

pensity is  carried  so  far  as  to  be  a  positive  ol 

ing.     As  when  the  farmer  refuses    to   hire    help 
because  it  must  he  paid  for,  and  thus  a. 
deteriorate  (•:  nt  of  a  too  late  ha:  .  or  when 

•vife  refuses  to  employ  a  domestic  servant  and  becomes 
on  account  of  overwork.     I:  ,  to  mow 

all    summer   witl  t    few  days'  use 

would  accomplish   the   same   result.     True   eco- 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME.  279 

nomy  consists  in  that  broad  and  comprehensive  knowledge 
of  affairs,  that  clear  foresight  and  calculation,  that  willing- 
ness to  spend  money  lavishly  in  the  procuring  of  the  proper 
means,  which  in  the  moving  of  circumstances  gives  us  the 
long  arm  of  the  lever. 

There  is  no  more  disgusting  spectacle  than  that  of  a 
penurious  farmer  whose  prosperity  is  crippled  by  his  own 
avarice.  Such  a  man  is  likely  to  be  found  using  a  wooden 
plow  which  his  father  left  him.  He  goes  barefooted  week 
days  in  order  to  make  his  boots  last  two  years  of  Sundays. 
If  he  buys  a  new  coat  he  must  pay  for  it  with  beans  or 
some  product  of  the  farm.  He  must  change  directly  too. 
He  could  not  think  of  selling  the  beans  for  money  and 
buying  the  coat,  for  that  would  be  paying  money  for  the 
coat.  Indeed,  he  has  well  nigh  dispensed  with  that  instru- 
ment of  civilization — money.  He  has  gone  back  so  far 
toward  barbarism  that  he  desires  to  barter  instead  of  buy 
and  sell  with  money.  Not  because  he  has  no  love  of 
money,  but  because  he  does  have  that  irrational  love  which 
becomes  the  "  root  of  all  evil." 

But  some  may  ask  how  that  can  be  the  root  of  all  evil 
which  owes  its  existence  to  a  God-given  instinct,  and  finds 
its  guarantee  in  an  eternal  law  of  nature. 

The  irrational  love  of  money  finds  its  guarantee  in  no 
law  or  instinct.  It  is  not  the  moderate  and  normal  love  of 
money  which  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  nor  is  such  love  an  evil 
at  all,  but  a  great  blessing. 


§30 

a  sentiiip 

Delves   u  '"w  limits.     I  o   be 

always  Irani 

niiri- 

kill  in  ii.  's  sea 

to  sa  between  these  two  rocks.     W' 

embark  we  are  \ 

i  more  « 

profit  well  by  that  experience,  and  learn  the  golu 
we  are  prone  to  tbe  oppo-  me  and  m:.  :  the 

rock  of  penuriousness.     I;  i-  the  inordinate  1 
for  iU  own  sake  that  is  the  root  of  all  evil;    while 
econ<  helm  that  guides  us  safely 

two  (lark  and  threatening  rorks. 

This  disposition  to  hoard  money  for 

pent!  -  proper  function,  is  not,  I  holly 

coiul  There  is  a  ministry  of  good  in  the  very 

sciousness  of  possession.     It  is  usually  easy  t 
the  men  of  wealth  in  a  crowd  of  people,  by  their  1 
conscious  power.     It  is  the  natural  and  legitimate  c 
of  man  to  feel  that  In-  is  in  a  certain  sense  the 
queror  and  possessor  of  . 

Th-  called  the  king  of  beasts,  not  because  he  is 

the  largest  or  the  strongest,  but  bee;.  calls  hi 

the  king  of  beasts.     !!••  'Iocs  this  l»y  his  nobl. 
the  consciousness  of  power.    How  man,  like  tbi  .ould 

feel  and  manifest  a  sense  of  power,  only  in  a  far  higher  de- 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME.  28x 

gree.  It  is  this  conscious  power  manifesting  itself  in  the 
human  e}7e  which  accounts  for  the  fact  that  no  wild  Least 
can  withstand  the  human  gaze. 

All  that  is  necessary  to  cause  the  lion  to  skulk  away  to 
the  den  like  a  whipped  cur,  is  to  gaze  full  in  his  eye 
while  you  calmly  maintain  a  consciousness  of  victory  and 
superiority  over  all  that  moves  upon  the  earth. 

This  feeling  in  man  is  the  strongest  safeguard  against 
low  and  mean  acts.  It  places  one  above  meanness.  The 
lion  is  the  most  magnanimous  of  beasts.  He  never  does  a 
mean  act.  This  is  because  of  his  consciousness  of  power 
which  makes  him  feel  too  noble  to  be  mean. 

This,  then,  is  our  plea  for  wealth,  that  its  moderate  pos- 
session makes  men  noble  and  magnanimous.  One  noble, 
generous,  wealthy  man  in  a  community  is  sometimes  a 
source  of  inspiration  for  hundreds  of  young  men. 

Let  it  be  remarked,  however,  that  the  kind  of  wealth 
which  produces  this  desirable  result  is  that  which  is  born 
of  toil  and  economy.  No  man  can  become  suddenly 
wealthy  without  being  injured  thereby,  for  the  mode  of 
thought  and  the  whole  character  must  change  to  meet  the 
conditions  of  wealth.  Whole  new  lines  of  thought,  new 
schemes,  new  plans  of  life  must  be  originated,  and  this 
change  cannot  take  place  suddenly  without  too  great  a 
shock  to  the  character. 

We  claim  that  no  man  has  any  moral  right  to  extreme 
wealth.  No  man  can  possibly  have  any  moral  right  to 


(M 

anything  in  t 

;  ass  Oil  t 

v 
itit<>   t:  .      \\'i...:    li-ht,   tlu-i  . 

11  and  mi>f(»rtune?     Tlio 
:i  with   n<itlii 

his    own  indu 
:  al»ilit_\ 
Band  dollars  and  \«-  mad-  .nd  n-l> 

•  the  uivimi  f  wt-alt].. 

. 

It  is  not  tl.  the  cconom  c.     Tlio 

object  df  home  is  to  mold  r,  and  t! 

ecoin  'lould   IK-,  tin-    accuinul.i 

-  and  instrunuMitalit: 

Those    things    which    n  t,.    the    : 

["•rly  tin-  nl'jrets  of  the  ecoi: 
-  dollar.- 

that  good  1 

•h.-ni 
i  to  accumulate 

•  •tter  than  to  gi\  a  little  bank 

and  tc.u  h  them  that  the  aecumulatioi,  tliat 

'. 

in  the  a<  Iwoks  and  i 

«'hcn  th«  .•  old  enough  to  appreciate  them,  they  will, 


ECONOMY  OF  HOME.  283 

perhaps,  have  a  respectable  library.  They  will  also  have 
what  ik  'i-.r  better,  a  true  idea  of  life  and  its  significance. 

If  all  j  arents  would  follow  this  course  with  their  chil- 
dren, the  world's  mad  scramble  for  money  would  be  trans- 
ferred to  books,  facts,  principles,  thoughts,  beauty,  art, 
educatior. .  culture,  righteousness,  and  all  that  can  lift  the 
soul,  and  jring  the  spirit  and  genius  of  humanity  nearer  to 
its  God. 

In  all  c  ases  the  children  should  be  made  to  earn  these 
books  with  their  own  hands,  that  they  may  early  learn  that 
labor  is  the  price  of  thought  as  well  as  of  bread.  They 
cannot  too  early  be  taught  that  labor  is  necessarily  the 
price  of  all  honest  possessions. 

"  Thus  is  it  over  all  the  earth, 

That  which  we  call  the  fairest, 
And  prize  for  its  surpassing  worth. 
Is  always  rarest. 

"  Iron  is  heaped  in  mountain  piles 
And  gluts  the  laggard  forges, 
But  gold-flakes  gleain  in  dim  defiles 
And  lonely  gorges. 

"  The  snowy  marble  flecks  the  land 

With  heaped  and  rounded  ledges, 
But  diamonds  hide  within  the  sand 
Their  starry  edges. 

"  The  finny  armies  clog  the  twine 

That  sweeps  the  lazy  river, 
But  pearls  come  singly  from  the  brine 
With  the  pale  diver. 

*'  God  gives  no  value  unto  men 

Unmatched  by  meed  of  labor; 
And  cost  of  worth  has  ever  been 
The  closest  neighbor. 


•  •  •  •  • 

1  Were  every  hill  a  precious  nine, 

\    ' 
Were  all  the  rivers  fed  with  wine 


1  Life  would  be  rariahed  of  lu  zeal, 

And  thorn  of  iu  nml 
And  sink  Into  the  droamloM  rest 

1  Up  the  broad  Main  that  value  rears, 
Stand  motive*  beck'nlng  earthward, 

To  summon  men  to  uobler  ,sj»Lcrea, 
And  lead  them  worth  war 


HOME  ADORNMENTS. 


AN  is  an  aesthetic  being.  The  love  of  beauty 
constitutes  a  vital  part  of  his  existence.  Not 
a  mere  appendage;  not  one  of  the  finishing 
touches  of  his  creation  that  might  have  been 
omitted  without  seriously  deranging  the  sym- 
metry of  the  whole, — but  it  constitutes  a  great 
motive  power  in  man's  constitution.  It  is 
the  uplifting  element ;  it  is  that  in  us  whicli 
makes  us  hunger  and  thirst  after  perfection 
of  character. 

The  law  of  beauty  is  the  law  of  complete- 
ness, and  that  law  in  the  soul  gives  the  desire 
for  spiritual  completeness  and  perfection. 

The  law  of  material  beauty  is,  doubtless, 
that  by  which  matter  tends  to  assume  the 
form  of  completeness,  which  is  that  of  the 
circle.  The  circle  everywhere  prevails.  Na- 
ture always  makes  a  perfect  circle  when  she 
can;  and  when  she  cannot  she  usually  makes 
a  compromise  with  the  opposing  forces  and  together  they 
make  an  ellipse,  or  some  form  of  the  curve.  The  stars  are 


Ml 

the  heavenly  bodies  are  •  Tlio 

- 

Lies  are  •  Most  of  t! 

or  are  made 

iu  the  y-  '-see 

the  spirit  of  ^'.    Bee  it  in  i 

i  the  ceaseless  round  of  the 
resurrect  lie  rose- 

•'iat  su<_r_:  I 

>uggests  •  Diction  . 

ipon  the 

ing  canvas  an  ul-lifting  sugges- 

• 

:it  thought. 
>  nur  imag:  missing 

are  found  to 
be  essential  faculties  in  the  ; 

.    is    that  f.;  ich   gives   us   a 

:tal  oper  give 

••in  something  of  The  la 

:,  whii-h  ' 
kfl  and  give  to  everything  a  circular  tend* 

natu:  nee  it  forms  so  large  and  vital  a  : 

nature,   is  not  its  cultivation  of  the   utn. 

'.  ilence  to  this  part  of  our  nature  without 


HOME  ADORNMENTS.  287 

violating  the  whole.  To  withhold  the  influences  that  tend 
to  develop  a  love  of  beauty  is  as  sure  to  cause  a  one-sided 
and  unsymmetrical  growth,  as  to  withhold  a  needed  ele- 
ment of  food.  Beauty  is  one  of  the  elements  of  the  soul's 
food.  The  cultivation  of  beauty  in  the  soul  requires  no 
costly  tutorage.  Beauty's  lessons  may  be  learned  without 
a  teacher.  The  universe  is  one  vast  cabinet  open  to  our 
inspection.  Every  gate  of  nature  turns  upon  golden 
hinges.  The  sky  each  morning  is  broidered  by  the  rosy 
fingers  of  the  dawn,  and  every  evening  the  sun,  amid 
beauty  that  awes  the  soul  to  silence,  like  a  gallant  knight 
rides  down  the  perilous  cataract  of  molten  gold.  The 
beauty  of  the  clouds,  the  sweet  simplicity  of  nature's 
drab  dress,  is  past  all  description  of  novelist  or  poet.  A 
spirit  may  grow  divine  by  gazing  on  the  clouds,  and  it 
costs  us  nothing  to  appropriate  this  beauty  except  the 
trouble  of  taking  our  no.oning  in  the  open  air.  There  is  a 
flower  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  nature's  domain,  which 
it  costs  us  nothing  to  look  at. 

But  it  is  not  alone  in  nature  that  beauty  may  minister 
to  our  souls.  It  is  the  chief  object  of  this  chapter  to  show, 
in  a  general  way,  how  art  may  serve  this  purpose. 

Nature  hangs  no  landscapes  on  our  parlor  walls,  nor  does 
she  set  bouquets  in  our  windows.  She  will  cause  the 
bouquets  to  grow  and  blossom,  however,  if  we  will  but  take 
the  trouble  to  plant  them. 

Flowers  are  the  soul's  best  friends.     There  is  the  breath 


of  i  lie  angels  on  •         needle* 

<•  b  110  (!•  '>ing  in  tin-  tribi:- 

vcrsal  heart  of  man  in  all  age 

A  flower  g;i 

hat  the   control  of  a  house : 
close  about  the  housr.  re  are  ft 

arts  of  cities  \v! 

for  .1  il.  • 
No' 

in  concerning  tl 

rtheless  the   opinion   of  the  most   c 
that  they  are  positively  '  1th.     I: 

suppose   otht  :  >uld   b' 

analogy,  :  'e  vegetable  kin 

suines  carbo:.  ible  gas 

us,  but  whit '  i  the  food  of  plants.      I 

!e  oxygen,  v  ining  element  of 

mal  life,  and  which  in  t  ivili/.-.l  homes  is  ' 
owing  to-  of  proper  ventilation.      i 

in  part  neutralize  tli  ects  of  i 

T  the  most  striking  provisions  of  natu:  n  in 

the  mutual  a  '  i  of  plants  and  anin. 

to  us  just  what  ire,  while  we  give  to  t! 

.      1 1     v    admirably    ths_-n    are   : 
plants  adapted  to  live  t-  . 

The  beauty   of  art  alone    for   the   ma:, 

wealth.    Artistic  and  tasteful  adornments  are 


HOME  ADORNMENTS.  28  & 


of  ingenuity  and  not  of  wealth.  Trees  may  be 
about  the  house,  also  vines  and  roses.  Arbors  and  shad}' 
nooks  may  be  made  to  render  home  attractive,  and  to  give 
an  added  charm  in  after  years  to  its  memories.  It  is  true 
that  "be  it  ever  so  humble  there's  no  place  like  home," 
but  that  home  would  be  sweeter  and  would  touch  a  ten- 
derer chord  in  the  spirit's  harp  if  we  could  look  back  to 
a  cottage  vine-wreathed  and  rosy-decked.  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  beauty  when  it  surrounds  our  early 
home,  that  never  loses  its  power,  and  never  ceases  to  exert 
a  molding  influence  over  us. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  tasty  and  pleasing  devices  by 
which  an  intelligent  wife  or  daughter  may  adorn  a  home, 
and  that  with  little  expense  beyond  the  time  it  requires, 
and  this  is  usually  mere  pastime.  The  plot  about  the 
house  may  be  either  a  sand  desert  covered  with  barrel 
hoops,  broken  cart  wheels,  and  decaying  rubbish,  or  it  may 
be  clean,  wholesome,  and  beautiful.  One  canuot  live  in  a 
wretched  hovel  where  there  is  no  beauty,  where  the  lawn 
suggests  a  lumber  yard,  a  cattle  yard,  and  a  slaughter 
yard  combined,  without  sharing  in  the  degradation  of  the 
surroundings. 

It  is  as  much  the  duty  of  parents,  then,  to  adorn  and 
beautify  their  home  as  it  is  to  keep  the  moral  atmosphere 
of  that  home  pure. 

Indeed,  the  latter  cannot  exist  without  the  former.  The 
best  characters  and  the  noblest  men  come  from  the  modest 

19 


IN 

s    \\liu-h    ta 
beautified. 
Beauty  b  a  po> 

-ree.    The  language 
guage  of  aspirati 

till  we  coultl  dhine  d  i   the 

opening  flowers,  we  should  h  say  : — 

"  All  things  hare  their  mission,  and  God  gives  as  ours, 

•  lii.s  is  a  part  of  the  mission  of  flowers: 
To  giro  life  to  the  weary  and  hope  to  the  sad, 
Fresh  faith  to  the  faithless,  new  joys  to  the  glad; 
To  cheer  the  desponding,  give  strength  to  the  weak; 
To  bring  health's  bright  bloom  t  I's  cheek; 

To  blush  on  the  brow  of  the  beautiful  1 
To  cheer  home*  of  mnnrning  where  sorrows  betide; 
To  rob  dreaded  death  of  a  pan  of  his  gloom, 
By  decking  the  dear  one  array.  i  mb ; 

To  famish  the  borne  with  a  lasting  delight, 
With  our  perfumes  so  lovely,  our  blossoms  so  bright; 
To  hallow  the  homestead,  embellish  the  lawn, 
Reflecting  the  tints  of  the  roseate  dawn." 


DIGNITY  AT  HOME. 


IGNITY  is  self-respect,  or  rather  the  mani- 
festation of  self-respect.  It  is  the  involuntary 
and  unconscious  expression  of  one's  appraisal 
of  himself.  Hence  dignity  may  be  called  a 
secondary  or  dependent  virtue.  It  is  not  in 
'  itself  a  cardinal  virtue,  but  the  language  of 
one.  Politeness  is  not  absolutely  necessary 
to  a  noble  character,  but  that  virtue  of  which 
politeness  is  the  expression  is  one  of  the 
grandest  in  the  world.  It  is  that  of  benevo- 
lence. 

In  exhorting  one  to  be  polite,  it  is  more 
philosophical  to  exhort  him  to  cultivate  the 
Christian  grace  of  benevolence  than  merely  to  study  eti- 
quette. So  with  dignity.  There  is  no  use  in  studying  the 
postures,  gestures,  and  bearing  of  dignity,  if  there  be  not 
behind  it  the  true  source  of  dignity,  self-respect.  It  is  dis- 
honest to  appear  to  be  what  we  are  not ;  and  if  we  have 
not  the  true  spirit  of  dignity,  it  is  better  for  us  to  appear 
undignified.  Then  the  world  will  know  better  how  to 
measure  our  worth.  Artificial  dignity  and  artificial  polite- 


10 

i;,  - .     : ..   •  .  '  .        •.}•     ••!.:•   ill-  ii   IK    :    ind    !. .  pocritii  al. 

be  a 

<;ct.     Stl 

:    \vli  ..-c  i  usually  uir. 

••pet  i  la-  .;•  "  '  some  stage  oi 

grow:    .  are    almost   alv. 

;it  in  the  majority  of  ca>>  ,'»vea 

rise  t  "lief  ori  her  sentiments  than  thut 

of  sc 

character  too  feebly  developed.     1 
possesses,  if  he  be  n<>t  liaughty  a: 

tlie  mind  [ 

makes  us  hate  anything  th.it  is  lo\v  or  mean.     . 
possessor  feel  that  he  is  better  tl 
it  is  one  of  the  strongest  ue. 

The  dignified  man  ahva  than  the 

undignified.     So<  .dined  to  take  a  man  at  his  own 

.isal.     The  world,  while  it  m;i_  '.  >n  a  ma: 

homage,  always  believes  all  the 
brings  aj:  :nself,  and  if  a  man  ' 

his  low  and  mean  associ;.  :  pro- 

fane Lo  ^hl'l•t,  by  his  lack  of  • 

•  orld  that  he  is  unworthy  of  its  esteem,  it  will  surelj 
take  him  at  his  word. 

To  the  dignified  man  everything  that  he  does  becomes 
dignified.     If  he   is  a  w  ]»er,  then  w* 

:ues    as    (M,  IQ   as    statesman 


DIGNITY  AT  HOME.  293 

Wherever  the  dignified  man  or  woman  goes,  there  goes 
before  a  sense  of  honor  and  respect.  He  seems  to  be  a 
kind  of  balance  wheel  to  the  society  in  which  he  moves. 
The  laugh  is  never  too  long  or  loud;  mirth  and  hilarity 
never  go  too  far  when  he  is  present.  At  the  same  time  he 
is  not  a  burden  or  a  painful  restraint  upon  the  natural  flow 
of  sentiment,  and  the  play  of  social  forces. 

Nations  and  individuals  usually  attain  a  height  corre- 
sponding to  their  own  ideals.  The  beautiful,  ideal  life  of 
the  Greek  was  the  necessary  prelude  to  the  glorious  reality, 
and  those  individuals  who  have  climbed  the  rugged  heights 
and  poised  themselves  on  glory's  giddy  summit,  have  been 
those  who  with  bleeding  feet,  calloused  hands,  and  toiling 
brains  have  worked  out  a  cherished  ideal.  The  dignity  of 
a  being  measures  the  worth  of  his  life's  ideal.  So  that, 
other  things  being  equal,  he  who  is  most  dignified  is  most 
rapidly  advancing  along  the  path  of  his  own  possibilities. 

These  facts  are  as  applicable  to  the  little  world  of  home 
as  to  the  great  world  of  human  society.  The  boy  who  is 
dignified  at  home  receives  the  confidence  of  his  sisters, 
brothers,  and  parents.  Just  as  the  world  takes  the  man  at 
his  own  price,  and  grants  its  confidence  only  as  his  dig- 
nity shows  him  worthy  of  it,  so  the  parent  takes  the  child 
at  his  own  price.  In  proportion  as  children  are  dignified 
will  parents  grant  them  liberties,  and  place  them  in  posi- 
tions of  honor  and  trust  in  the  family  economy.  The  dig- 
nified girl  need  not  be  a  premature  woman.  She  may 


IM 

.y  with  ,  as  she 

Btill  be  dignified.      1 '.:.". .  .. 
OODhi  it   has    : 

not  r  well-pi 

who  gets  (1 

not  uii.:  L     Tin-   : 

y  sports  of  1  M  with  all  the  mirth 

and  :  rly  girlhood,  is  not  i: 

long  as  she  has  a  noble  purpose  in  life,  and  sees  a  grand 

ng. 

.  we  believe  that  those  who  walk  with  i: 
and  \vh< 

.  aients  of  true  dignity.     K\< -ry thing  v. 
is  counterfeit    betrays  its  spuriousness,  whatever  in 

kill  of  the  counterfeiter.     Ti  ':-?glillgi  ;ill(l  *i">- 

for  the 
frankness  and    fearlessness  of  true   i  .So  tl;> 

•hing  about   tin-  i  dignity  that 

;;iity  th,  :    afl'nrd    I 

but  true  dignity  can  a  fiord   t->   !><•  light   hearted.     We  find 
;   upon  the  mother's  brow  as  she  shakes   the 
and  creeps  uj>on  the  floor  t  her 

.     But  1  iidly,  when   sudd 

:in  a  higher  duty.  d<n^  -he  ^\<  \>  out  of  t! 
atiiH  ;  ht-r  baby's  life,  unv,  niles 

from  her  face,  aii  forth   in  the  gh>ry  of  her  woman- 

hood.    It  is  then  that  she  <\i--.  ii^nitv  that  . 


DIGNITY  AT  HOME.  295 

a  dignity  before  which  the  vile  insulter  slinks  back  like 
the  hyena  at  the  gaze  of  day. 

This  is  what  we  mean  by  dignity.  It  is  something 
which  the  little  girl  may  cultivate  as  much  as  she  chooses. 
It  will  not  hurt  her.  It  will  not  make  her  prematurely 
old.  It  will  not  cause  her  to  ripen  too  quickly  like  a 
shriveled  fall  apple,  but  it  will  help  to  develop  her  and 
make  her  a  true  and  noble  woman. 

There  is  always  a  certain  degree  of  reserve  that  accom- 
panies true  dignity,  so  that  its  possessor  is  never  quite 
transparent.  He  may  be,  and  in  fact  must  be,  free,  open 
and  social,  but  there  is  always  a  reserved  force  of  individ- 
uality. He  may  be  translucent,  but  not  transparent.  And 
there  is  always  a  charm  in  that  which  we  have  almost  but 
not  quite  seen.  Hence  the  mind  of  the  dignified  man  is 
an  inexhaustible  fountain  of  pleasure  to  his  friends.  He  is 
always  courted  and  never  shunned.  The  boy  who  is  dig- 
nified will  be  a  central  figure  among  his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters and  schoolmates. 

There  are  certain  virtues  that  have  corresponding  vices, 
resulting  not  from  the  absence  but  from  the  excess  or 
wrong  direction  of  the  virtue.  Dignity  is  one  of  those  pe- 
culiar virtues,  separated  from  the  vice  of  conceit  only  by  a 
thin  veil.  Economy  is  a  virtue  that  all  boys  and  girls  are 
exhorted  to  cultivate,  but  how  thin  is  the  partition  that 
separates  this  virtue  from  the  hateful  vice  of  penurious- 
ness,  that  vice  which  has  shriveled  the  soul  of  many  a 


i  the  w< 
ic  grows  close  t«»  i! 

El  a  law  without  ex.  •  lane 

stable  the  virtue,  while  th--  be  plane,  the 

>le. 
'I'h.  ly  gift  of  love 

crowning  sentiment  (•fdivin. 
is  easily  turn:  a   its  lofty  pedestal  into  the-  mire  of 

.  piemen  t 
it    is  M]  l»y  a  thin   partition  from  t! 

;ness.     Let  us  then  cultivate  dignity,  but 
'.vith  ;)  careful  hand. 

'  A  in.inofi   i til  'i. '.:'y  :i •!  !:i'::  t"  !,:-  <  n.'::i!.'-;; 

He  ttuuidrllt  «s  aii  Arab  in  the  des<  :  -  of  nil  men  Are  against  him. 

'  KC  iniinl  li.-xily  subtrac-t.  ill  from  ! 

learn  to  despise  him. 

•«  of  sHf-kniiwlotJ^.'  vi-il.-tli  the  front  of  srlf-rcspect, 
Tlu-re  look  thon  for  tho  111:111  wliom  none  can  know  but  they  will  honor. 

And  lielu  lowly  on  the  ground,  beloved  and  lovely  as  the  violet." 


SUCCESS  OR  FAILURE 
FORESHADOWED   AT   HOME. 


UCCESS  and  failure  are  relative  terms.  What 
would  be  success  to  one  might  be  failure  to 
another.  Success  is  simply  the  best  possible 
results  under  existing  circumstances.  He 
who  was  born  without  the  use  of  his  arms 
and  hands,  and  also  without  artistic  ability, 
and  yet  who,  by  patient  effort,  has  learned  to 
write  with  his  toes,  even  though  his  writing 
be  but  a  miserable  scrawl,  if  it  be  legible,  has 
surely  achieved  a  wonderful  success  in  the 
art  of  penmanship.  But  for  him  who  possesses  the  free 
use  of  his  hands,  and  has  in  addition  the  taste  of  an 
artist,  such  a  result  would  certainly  be  but  moderate  suc- 
cess. The  pious  rural  maiden,  who  spends  her  life  in 
ministering  to  the  sick,  the  poor,  and  the  ignorant  in  her 
little  neighborhood,  even  though  her  name  is  never  heard 
beyond  a  radius  of  ten  miles,  has  achieved  a  success  of 
which  the  record  is  in  heaven,  but  had  she  been  endowed 
with  the  ten  talents  that  God  gave  to  Florence  Nightin- 
gale, she  surely  would  have  shuddered  to  offer  so  meager  a 
return  to  her  master. 


Stt 

;-ed?" 
ees,  or  his    v 
and  native  abili; 
. 

the    in;  :    stages 

ral  capat  length  of  lit'  .      ' 

for  success,  •  ugh  it  has  i 

eded   better    than    !  passed  > 

sand  stages,  but  has  missed  one  stag 


According  t<>  tl  lion  of  success,  whu-h  is  the  only 

proper  one,  all  in  ;i<l  failu: 

All  0  best,  and  the  r- 

0668.     Failure,  as  the  word  iiupli' 

act  a  ^  to  our  .lilies.      i  .Id   \A 

full  of  the  brilliant  failures  of  fortune's  sons — t: 
;ngly  possessed  every  advantage 
.     On  the  other  hand,  thr   p<.o:  a    the 

"f  many  a  Mibliine  success. 
!!'•  '  ell  who  '. 

m  that  assail 

has  subdued  self,  that   mi^hti- 
iy  count  his  life  a  gra: 

luit  with  the  deatli 

Success  is  his  if  he  can  greet  his  stern  ally 
•  : — 


SUCCESS  OR  FAILURE.  299 

"  Were  the  whole  world  to  come  before  me  now, — 
Wealth  with  its  treasures ;  pleasure  with  its  cup; 
Power  robed  in  purple;  beauty  in  its  pride; 
And  with  love's  sweetest  blossoms  garlanded; 
Fame  with  its  bays,  and  glory  with  its  crown,— 
To  tempt  me  lifeward,  I  would  turn  away, 
And  stretch  my  hands  with  utter  eagerness 
Toward  the  pale  angel  waiting  for  me  now, 
And  give  myself  to  him,  to  be  led  out 
Serenely  singing  to  the  land  of  shade." 

We  are  glad,  however,  that  the  world  contains  but  few 
who  must  buy  success  at  such  an  awful  price. 

Success  or  failure  is  the  natural  fruit  of  character.  The 
apple  tree  cannot  bear  anything  but  apples,  neither  can  a 
good  character  bear  anything  but  success.  Failure  is  the 
only  fruit  we  can  reasonably  expect  to  reap  from  a  bad 
character. 

But  some  may  object  to  this,  and  point  us  to  the  fre- 
quent and  brilliant  success  of  bad  men  ;  but  what  they 
would  call  success  would  not  probably  fall  within  our  defi- 
nition. If  dishonest  acquisition  is  success,  then  is  the 
highway  robber  the  most  successful  of  men  ;  and  on  that 
roll  of  honor  the  brute-hearted  pirate  must  be  allowed  to 
write  his  name.  Hence  the  word  success  loses  all  signifi- 
cance unless  we  restrict  it  at  least  to  honest  acquisition. 
This  must  be  done  even  by  those  who  claim  that  dollars 
and  cents  are  its  only  standard.  Yes,  it  is  character  that 
determines  our  success  or  failure.  Our  deeds,  both  the 
good  and  the  bad,  are  the  visible  herd  which  the  unseen 
shepherd,  character,  drives  across  the  desert  of  our  lives. 


100 

be  a  good 

.-ss  of  tl.' 

' 

,  ami  li. 
caves  of  failure. 

ihat  brings  us  success  or 

failure,  v,  go  where  d  :.s  are  fc  >  tlic 

•  • 

The  cli  •  of  all  fail 

He  v  .s  life  as  a  frui;  at  a 

i  mind,  has  a  LOe  of  si: 

-  with  a  million  <; 

In  .'.  al  success  i>  ung 

of  onlinary  ability.     It  i>  certainly  i  ;  that  he 

8h(Uilil  choose  tho  vocation  for  which  nati: 
liiin,  but  it  is  far  more  important  that  he  : 
\viii(  h  he  does  choo- 
There   are  certain  excesses   and  d-  :.ich  are 

.  and  tliis  lack  of  jicr-istency 
•aericans.     With  the  (Ic; 

with  them  i  «-xcess.     ' 

is  so 
I 

. 

natural  for  lile  with 

occupati 


SUCCESS  OR  FAILURE.  301 

By  failures  we  do  not  mean  what  is  generally  called  a 
"  financial  failure."  But  rather  the  failure  to  do  justice  to 
one's  native  powers,  failure  to  attain  to  what  most  men 
regard  as  success. 

Perhaps  there  are  more  failures  of  this  kind  among 
Americans  in  proportion  to  the  population,  than  among 
any  other  people  in  the  world,  and  the  .:.ct  accords  well 
with  their  known  fickleness. 

The  young  American  has  much  difficulty  in  decjding 
what  occupation  he  shall  follow.  He  is  usually  undecided 
whether  he  shall  be  a  shoe-maker  or  statesman.  He  gener- 
ally thinks  quite  favorably  of  all  the  intermediate  trades 
and  professions.  As  a  rule,  he  tries  as  many  of  these  as 
time  and  circumstances  will  permit.  He  enters  a  store  as 
a  clerk,  and  while  the  novelty  lasts  his  mind  is  fully  made 
up  that  he  will  be  a  merchant,  and  have  a  store  on  Broad- 
way, but  after  a  time  his  work  becomes  prose  instead  of 
poetry.  His  hasty  decision  was  based  on  no  abiding  rela- 
tion between  himself  and  trade.  He  leaves  the  store  and 
obtains  a  position  in  a  bank,  and  immediately  he  decides 
that  he  will  be  a  great  banker.  He  reads  and  studies 
about  the  mysteries  of  Wall  Street.  But  in  a  few  weeks  or 
months  it  occurs  to  him  that  he  didn't  stop  to  measure  the 
distance  between  a  chore  boy  in  a  country  bank  and  a 
great  stock  operator  on  Wall  Street,  so  he  thinks  he  won't 
be  a  banker  or  a  broker,  but  perhaps  decides  to  be  a  printer, 
and  goes  into  a  printing  office  fully  determined  that  he  has 


MM 

El    well  u    time.      1 

I 

'.y  the  s.  1   the 

of  going    to    college,    anil    1.. coming    a    •. 

speaker.     So  his  father's  link-  farm  .'1   h.j 

college,  carrying  with  him 
aii'l    after    four  years    of   ai:;  e    to 

||  life   work,    having   forgotten   all   ;ii«"iit    hi 
resolution  to  be  a  groat  writer.     So  habituated  1 
come  to  fre<iuent  change  of  occupation,  tl 
lutely  impo>sil)k-  fur  him  to  be  satisfied  in  any  : 

There  is  no  objection  to  a  mere  change  of  occupation  if 

.-ler  it   de>irahle.     T 

tal  condition  that  prompts  a  nig  man  may 

be  a  clerk,  a  hanker  and  a  printer  if  he  chooses,  and  !•• 
better  for  it,  provided  tin 
:•  the  accomplish: 

purpose.     If  a  hoy  <  >  be  a  prin: 

printer,  and  if  cin-ui: 
ble  that  he  should  f<>r  a  ti 

tion.let  him  do  it  that  he  is  simply  for 

ing  out   of  1  :    .     I 

change  of  motive  and  d  1  not  the  mere  phv 

change  which  produces  the  best  result. 


SUCCESS  OR  FAILURE.  303 

Now,  since  success  and  failure  are  products  of  the  char- 
acter, and  since  character  is  formed  by  the  influences  of 
home,  it  is  easy  to  determine  with  approximate  certainty 
from  an  inspection  of  the  home,  what  are  the  prospects  of 
success  or  failure  in  life. 

Moreover,  one  derives  a  feeling  of  fortunate  relief  from 
the  thought  that  all  evils  which  can  be  foreseen,  and  which 
owe  their  origin  to  human  volition,  can  be  prevented. 

Children  should  be  taught  the  importance  of  persistency. 
It  is  not  necessary  that  they  should  early  choose  their 
vocation ;  yet  it  is  necessary  that  when  they  do  choose  it, 
they  should  choose  it  for  life.  An  occupation  once  chosen 
should  be  entered  upon  with  a  feeling  that  there  is  no 
other  occupation.  The  ships  should  be  burned  behind.  So 
long  as  there  is  in  the  mind  a  lingering  thought  that  after 
all  some  other  occupation  will  constitute  the  life  work, 
failure  is  almost  certain,  for  the  mind  is  not  concentrated, 
and  its  acts  are  like  the  acts  of  those  who  are  half  in  jest. 

Young  men  who  contemplate  a  profession  are  sometimes 
advised  to  learn  some  trade  first,  then,  they  are  told,  if  they 
fail  in  the  profession  they  will  have  something  to  "fall 
back  on."  This  is  a  first  rate  way  to  make  certain  their 
failure  in  the  profession.  If  you  wish  to  ensure  the  defeat 
of  an  army  make  elaborate  preparations  for  an  easy  retreat, 
but  if  you  wish  to  make  them  invincible,  tear  up  the  roads 
and  burn  the  bridges  behind  them.  So  if  you  would  en- 
sure success  in  your  boy's  career  don't  foster  nor  tolerate 


KM 

. 

;i  in. i 

of  IK  ha  shall  continue 

profession  or  change  .\v.     If  he  is  y< 

tvorablc. 

e  the  change.     It  would  not  as  a  ru!  ;e. 

\\>-   have  :-aid   that    it    is  h-ss  important   t!  •ung 

man  should  choose  just  the  occupation  for  wl.; 

.   than    that    he    i>n>ist    in   tlie  on- 
-e.     There  may  be  exi-cptitms  to  this,  hi:1 
a  rule,  from  the  N  that  without 

in  the  o<  i  for  which  1. 

With  persistency  he  i 

in  the  •>  to  which  lie  is  poorly  adaj 

will.  '.ity  he  is  sure  of  failure  in  a:. 

\\V  would  not  convoy  the  i:  but 

little  importance  to  i  .;   choice 

are  few  things  in  human  lift-  mo: 
matrimonial  selection,  and  y«-t  it  : 

a  firm  determination  to  live  through  lif  : 

n  the  one  wh 

• 
;ade  in  < 


SUCCESS  OR  FAILURE.  305 

It  is  not  to  be  presumed  that  the  young  man  has  made 
any  mistake  in  the  choice  of  his  occupation.  If  he  has 
been  advised  and  counseled  by  wise  and  cautious  parents, 
there  is  but  little  probability  that  he  has  made  a  wrong 
choice.  Nature  has  so  kindly  and  wisely  blended  our 
tastes  and  talents  that  what  we  desire  to  do  most,  that,  as 

a  rule,  we  can  do  best. 

> 

But  unmingled  success  is  not  always  the  best  thing  for 
a  young  man.  There  are  few  who  would  not  be  spoiled 
by  it.  There  is  hardly  a  great  orator  whose  biography 
does  not  contain  some  story  of  an  early  failure.  He  who 
has  never  failed  is  necessarily  a  weak  man.  Temporary 
failure  is  the  best  cure  for  egotism.  It  reduces  our  stand- 
ard of  self  measurement  to  the  denominations  of  the 
world's  system. 

Temporary  failure  sustains  the  same  relation  to  the 
character  that  sorrow  does ;  if  not  administered  in  over- 
doses, it  strengthens  and  develops. 

44  What  most  men  covet,  wealth,  distinction,  power, 
Are  bawbles  nothing  worth;  they  only  serve 
To  rouse  us  up,  as  children  at  the  school 
Are  roused  up  to  exertion ;  our  reward 
Is  in  the  race  we  run,  not  in  the  prize. 
Those  few,  to  whom  is  given  what  they  ne'er  earned, 
Having  by  favor  or  inheritance 
The  dangerous  gifts  placed  in  their  hands, 
Know  not,  nor  ever  can,  the  generous  pride 
That  glows  in  him  who  on  himself  relies. 
Entering  the  lists  of  life,  he  speeds  beyond 
Them  all,  and  foremost  in  the  race  succeeds. 
His  joy  is  not  that  he  has  got  his  crown, 

But  that  the  power  to  win  the  crown  is  his." 
20 


FALLACIES  ABOUT  GENIUS. 


1TS  may 

••  to  work  i  hose 

!e  soul  doe>  onse  to 

the  <>t  a  gc: 

rhing  that  more 
' 

nature   than 
young  man,  to  fancy  himself  a  genius  and  1. 
the  necessity  of /-/;   /-.     The  -ex- 

pose that  folly,  and  to  show  the  v, 

crning  the  nature  of  gen 

If  work  costs  you  effort,  you  may  be  talented  but  you 
are  not  a  genius.     If  it  is  easy  for  you  to  work,  and 
but  little  self-denial,  you  are  on  the  border-land  < 
but  if  you  cannot  help  working,  if  work  i- 
•'i.  if  when  the  spell  is  upon  you  ;' 
their  music  to  give  you  sleep,  if  thr 

less  impulse  1  rs  on  y  in  at  inid- 

.  you  may  ]  nt  upon  the  star-lit  heights, 

"ur  mi-  roach  up  to  God  and  down  t«  i 

Great  achievements,  although  they  always   acconij 


FALLACIES  ABOUT  GENIUS.  307 

genius,  do  not  constitute  it,  they  only  indicate  it,  they  are 
the  natural  language,  the  gestures  of  genius. 

We  are  told  that  intense  application,  and  concentration 
of  effort  and  purpose  will  accomplish  the  results  of  genius. 
And  why  should  they  not,  for  they  are  genius  itself.  It  is 
wonderful  that  men  who  are  so  remarkable  for  common 
sense  in  the  every-day  affairs  of  life  should  show  to  such 
poor  advantage  when  they  attempt  to  elucidate  the  princi- 
ples of  mental  science  and  human  nature.  There  are  no 
subjects  on  which  the  popular  writers  become  so  hopelessly 
confused  as  on  those  pertaining  to  psychology.  Let  it  be 
understood  once  and  forever  by  the  world,  that  there  can 
be  no  act  of  being  that  is  not  the  outgrowth  of  an  organic 
function,  and  this  pernicious  indefiniteness  which  makes 
ludicrous  and  insignificant  distinctions  between  synony- 
mous words,  will  vanish  from  our  literature.  Concentra- 
tion of  purpose  and  intense  application  are  as  truly  ele- 
ments of  genius  as  the  imagination  of  the  poet.  From 
these  writers  we  should  gather  that  there  may  be  one  or 
two  faculties  essential  to  greatness,  which  may  be  native 
and  individual,  but  that  all  the  other  elements,  such  as  will, 
concentration,  perseverance,  self-reliance,  etc.,  etc.,  are 
possessed  in  equal  quantities  by  all,  and  those  who  do  not 
use  them  as  extensively  as  the  greatest  men,  are  to  be 
censured. 

Now  it  is  as  reasonable  to  censure  a  boy  because  he  can- 
not compose  music  like  Beethoven  as  to  censure  him  be- 


106 

cause  he  "  doca  not  v,  ..it  give  the 

deaire  are  the  same  that  gi  '      ;   may  as 

poetry!.  •  are  as  to  ex- 

liim  to  have  the  coi.rrntra 

the  §elf  reliance  of  Shakespeare,  f<>r  all  these  qualities  are 
as  much  parts  of  genius,  and  are  just  as  <:  t   on 

hereditary  and  organic  influences  a*  those  which  are  recog- 

;>rime  factors  of  genius, 
has  many  and    unn, 

among  them  the  earliest,  if  not  the  mo.st  marked,  is  in- 
tellectual boldness.      The  first   r  i  of  gei 
scorn   for   the   opinions  of  men.      Genius  sees    through 
the  clouds  that  intercept   the  world's  vision,  and   1 
the  v                        -vmpathizes  with  gen'r;-.      I!  v  the 
highest  compliment   the   world  can   pay  to   genius.      He 
who  does  not  so;                enrage  his  fell-               :nay  well 
ques-                     i  to  genius. 

This   rule,   however,  applies  with  less  force  in  cer 
spheres  of  genius,  as  music,  painting,  sculpture,  etc. 
even  here  the  grandest  efforts  have  beei  1  by  the 

critics,  the  interpreters  of  genius.  Hut  in  that 
•phere,  in  which  it  rough-hews  the  timbers  of  the  world's 
new  thought,  it  cannot  receive  the  sympathy  of  men. 
44  Loose  unto  us  Barabbas "  is  the  world's  cry.  It  is 
genius  they  would  crucify,  for  it  is  genius  that  moves 
them  to  wrath.  For  it  reveals  itself  not  in  soft  words  and 
**  pretty  thoughts,"  but  in  discordant  words  and  ugly 


FALLACIES  ABOUT  GENIUS.  309 

thoughts ;  tumultuous  thoughts  ;  thoughts  that  burn  into 
the  tablet  of  the  centuries  with  a  hiss.  It  is  the  honied 
words  of  talent  that  please  the  ears  of  mankind. 

Another  distinguishing  characteristic  of  genius  is  that  it 
always  tells  the  world  something  that  it  did  not  know  be- 
fore. Genius  stands  nearest  to  the  source  of  all  wisdom, 
and  catches  whispers  that  never  reach  the  common  ear.  It 
is  God's  interpreter.  It  reveals  and  interprets  the  unwrit- 
ten language  of  nature's  pantomime ;  hence  the  world,  in 
spite  of  its  antipathy  for  genius,  instinctively  recognizes  its 
power.  For  in  all  ages  men  have  made  the  words  of 
genius  canonical.  Homer  was  the  world's  first  Bible. 

Genius  works  without  regard  to  the  value  of  the  prod- 
uct. It  works,  as  we  have  said,  because  it  cannot  help  it. 
And  herein  seems  to  consist  the  divinity  of  genius,  for  it 
appears  to  be  guided  by  a  divine  influence.  It  forgets 
that  it  is  hungry  and  works  all  night.  Tested  by  the  re- 
ceived canons,  it  is  radical  and  fanatical.  It  recognizes  no 
formulated  law  of  thought  or  logic.  It  both  walks  upon 
the  earth,  and  flies  in  the  air.  It  knows  that  which  talent 
doubts,  and  believes  that  which  talent  laughs  at. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  discourage  young  men,  yet  we 
do  not  hesitate  to  do  so,  if  thereby  we  may  dispel  from 
their  minds  the  foolish  fancy  that  they  are  geniuses.  Nor 
need  this  discourage  them.  Every  mind  is  satisfied  with 
its  own  sphere.  Talent  does  not  suffer  from  disappoint- 
ment because  it  cannot  be  genius,  any  more  than  the  child 


310 

MifTcrs  because  it  cannot  be  a  man.     The  child  is  ambi- 
tion- tes  as  posse - 
y.Miiarkalih-  degn                 lalities  of  a  child.     So  t.. 

.t  df  harmony  iii  titn- 

s  not  st- 
riae in  ita  aspirations   into   the  cloud   1.. 
io  not  mean   that  a  without 

that  he  might  occupy  th- 
ine «  lows.    There  are  few  to  \\ 
is  a  stranger,  yet  it  causes  no  suffering  and 
nut  touch  the  question  of  disappoint •  i.     In  its 
to  genius  we  ha-,                the  word  a>piration  with 
uing.  that  in  which  it  signifies  not  m< 

Imrning,  sleepless  impulse,  which 
suffers  all  things,  forgets  ings  of  s. 

labors  unceasingly  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  purj 

So  •  i  malicious  desire  to  dash  the 

f  college  boys  wh<>  mistake  that  indefinite 
B   for  greatness   which   every   one    1. 
divine  uplifting  which  not  only  seeks  the  goal  of  j: 
but  actually  rejoices  t  ;>ath  to  glory  is  so  rough  and 

.     It  is  a  characteristic  of  genius  that  it  loves  to  t 

for  the  sake  of  crushing  :es. 

No!  no!  young  man.  don't  wait  any  longer  for  gc 
to  blossom,  for  the  fact  that  you  are  waiting  proves  that 
iid  to  blossom. 
;-aid    this  exalted    and    possiMy   extravagant 


FALLACIES  ABOUT  GENIUS.  311 

tribute  to  genius  solely  for  the  purpose  of  placing  in  the 
hands  of  that  class  of  young  men  who  fancy  themselves 
geniuses,  a  means  of  detecting  their  own  folly.  These 
young  men  are  proverbially  the  lazy  young  men ;  they  are 
those  who  from  some  strange  cause  have  conceived  the 
idea  that  to  work  would  be  to  surrender  their  claim  to 
genius.  Hence  they  abandon  themselves  to  idleness.  They 
have  been  told  that  Poe  and  Byron  were  idlers.  But  if 
the  truth  were  known  it  would,  doubtless,  be  found  that 
these  unhappy  geniuses  through  sleepless  nights  of  wast- 
ing toil  worked  themselves  into  untimely  graves. 

Since  genius  consists  solely  in  spontaneous  and  involun- 
tary labor  in  contradistinction  to  the  irksome  effort  of 
mediocrity,  it  follows  that  these  young  men  are  barred, 
at  the  outset,  from  all  claim  to  genius. 

Probably  more  talented  young  men  have  been  rendered 
useless  by  the  delusion  that  genius  is  a  compound  of  wine 
and  laziness  than  by  any  other  one  cause.  But  let  no 
young  man  entertain  the  foolish  idea  that  by  getting 
drunk  and  being  lazy  he  can  be  a  Poe. 

In  the  first  place,  Poe  was  not  lazy.  Genius,  it  is  true, 
often  works  somewhat  irregularly,  because  the  moving 
power  in  genius  is  impulse,  whereas  in  talent  it  is  usually 
motives  of  economy  or  duty.  And  in  the  second  place,  Poe 
would  probably  have  been  a  much  greater  poet  had  he 
been  temperate.  But  there  seems  to  be  in  perverted 
human  nature  a  propensity  to  copy  after  the  incidental 


312  R  / 

weakness  of  greatness.     I 

iiut  and  liui. 

ate  it  and  r«m|.  itlcr  themselves  posses.4- 

at  least  one  ch .c  UH. 

So  long  as  the  young  man  of  talent  can  readily  fi: 
field  for  the  full  exercise  of  his  ;  in  which 

-f  toil  tire  worthy  of  his  high. 

uot  1  As 

well  might  he  lament  because  he  was  not  horn  into  a  : 
refined  and  beautiful  world  than  this.     So  long  as  he  ful- 
fills the  duties  which  his  talent  impo-  .ould  be  con 
tent  and  happy  in  his  sphere,  and  never  stop  to  con 
whether  he  be  a  genius  or  a  mediocre.     The  semi-idiot,  if  ho 
employs  to  the  best  possible,  advantage  the  weak  t;i 
that  he  possesses,  may  be  as  deserving  of  praise  as  Plato, 
Paul,  or  Newton. 

It  is  the  function  of  genius  to  go  in  advance  of  the  world's 
'i,  and  "set  the  stakes"  to  guide  the  advancing  col- 
umn.    But  one  genius  can  do  this  f>r  an  army  of  • 
sand,  while  the  lieutenants  and  corpor  .lent  mi; 

scattered  all  along  the  line.  Genius  in  every  relati 
life  is  more  or  less  independent  of  experience.  It  knows 
things  without  learning  them.  It  exemplifies  the  doctrine 
of  "  innate  ideas."  Talent  knows  only  what  it  sees,  but 
genius  does  not  see  what  it  knows.  In  its  loftiest  moods 
the  beams  of  truth  flash  into  its  inmost  chambers,  and  it 
cannot  tell  from  whence  comes  the  light.  It  is  awed  at  it/ 


Loveliness. 

I  thoughts  make  a  beautiful  soul,  and  a 
utlful  soul  makes  a  beautiful  face." 

;  I  knew  a  little  girl, 

Very  plain ; 
might  try  her  hair  to  curl, 

All  in  vain; 

ier  cheek  no  tint  of  rose    • 
d  and  blushed,  or  sought  repose : 

She  was  plain. 

the  thoughts  that  through  her  brain 

Came  and  went, 
recompense  for  pain, 

Angels  sent: 

ill  many  a  beauteous  thing, 
er  young  soul  blossoming, 

Grave  content. 

•ry  thought  was  full  of  grace, 

Pure  and  true; 
I  in  time  the  homely  face 

Lovelier  grew ; 

h  a  heavenly  radiance  bright, 
m  the  soul's  reflected  light 

Shining  through. 

t  tell  you,  little  child, 

Plain  or  poor, 
our  thoughts  are  undefiled, 

You  are  sure 
the  loveliness  of  worth ; 
d  this  beauty  not  of  earth 

Will  endure. 

—St.  Nicholas. 


to 

1, 267,984  last  year. 
-The  Anti-Semitic  more 
rf.iwia  has  .become  general,    n 
everywhere  are  filled  with  the  deepest 

pro«pect  of  a  new  per*- 
threaten*  to  be  more  senons  thtn    a 
have  endured  in  th  tt  country, 
design  appears  to  be  to 
their   commercial     privileges 
ticularly  odious  and  unjust  con 
Secretary  Windom  has  banqueted  at 
Tuesday  evening,  many  distinguish* 
sons  taking  part— The  Spanish  Forefe 

i  -'•  r  •."_••    :ii-    I  r.-iirl,  <i  .yern-n-n'.  U 

Ruiz  Z  .rilla,  the  leader  of  the  recent 
ngressof  stndenu  of  ear! 
••  is  being  held  at  Copenhagen 

Prince  of  Wales  and  members  of  the 

royal  family  are  present 

A0o.  22  —  DOVBRTC.—  The  <•-. 
passed  over  Rochester,  Minnesota,  T 
night  seems  to  have  been  the  most 
ol  the  season.     One-third  of  the  ci 
contains    nine  thousand   inhabi 
ruins.    Twenty -four  people  were 
forty  serio-isly  hurt  A  railway  train  pi 
ing  from  R  Chester  to  Z  imbota  was  w 
and  a  score  or  more  of  people  killed  a 
jured.    Great    damage  was  done  to 
Wheat   stacks    were  blown  down,  ai 
shearers  scattered  in  every  direction 
rhetor  k 


FALLACIES  ABOUT  GENIUS.  31b 

own  achievements,  and  looks  with  wonder  upon  its  own 
offspring.  It  sees,  as  mere  talent  can  never  learn  to  see, 
the  infinite  significance  of  wholeness. 

Genius  is  creative  rather  than  executive.  It  may  exist, 
however,  in  the  line  of  any  one  of  the  several  faculties  of 
the  mind,  and  hence  may  find  its  expression  in  the  execu- 
tive faculties  themselves.  Yet  even  in  this  case  genius 
finds  its  chief  function  in  marking  out  the  lines  of  action 
and  in  telling  others  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it,  thus 
leaving  the  ultimate  execution  in  the  hands  of  talent. 
So  it  may  be  true  that  genius  is  always  creative  and  not 
executive.  The  girl  may  surpass  Beethoven  in  the  mere 
execution  at  the  piano-forte,  yet  it  is  the  fiat  of  Beethoven's 
genius  that  directs  every  quiver  of  her  flying  fingers.  The 
inventive  genius  is  proverbial  for  its  lack  of  executive 
abilit}r.  This  quality,  together  with  intuitiveness,  to 
which  it  is  closely  related,  and  upon  which  it  chiefly 
depends,  is,  doubtless,  the  most  distinguishing  character- 
istic of  genius. 

But  talent  and  genius  may  and  often  do  exist  together. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  the  one  that  necessarily 
precludes  the  other.  Those  in  whom  they  exist  together 
will  exhibit  that  same  irrepressible  impulse  to  labor,  but 
there  will  be,  in  their  labor,  the  method  and  regularity  and 
moderation  which  characterizes  that  of  talent.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  pure  genius  is  ever  of  the  highest  order.  Poe  was 
perhaps  one  of  the  best  illustrations  of  pure  genius  in  all 


314 

.iin  as  v*  f  the 

:  :ful  aii'l  in.  II   is 

1   with   t.ih'iit    th 

: 

1   with  t 

was  i  •  ami  in. 

furn;  'ination  of  <j; 

and  tali-lit. 

W.-  have  ii.  a  very  sharp  contrast  between  genius 

and    talent,     r  rather  be 

talent,      But  the    question,  what  is  genius,  remains    un- 
.veivd. 

There  are  all  degrees  of  genius,  as  there  are  all  degrees 
of  t.i  1  the  line  where  the  highest 

-  the  lov.  ree  of  genius  is  a  question  th.it  ran  lie 

nined  only  by  the  arbitration  of  mankind. 
no  natural  law  by  which  Q  say   with  certainty  that 

one  mind  is  on  this  '.  another  on  the  le  of 

that  line.     There  are  doubtless  thoi;  ;r  .bi-low  the 

line  who  have  passed  for  geniuses,  while  thousands  more, 
as   far   above  the  line,  have  hardly  :  .k  to 

whirh  mediocrity  should  entitle  tlu-m.      ^i 
ing  such  injustice,  resulting  from  weakness  and  prejn 
the  fact  of  genius  still  remains.  .f  kitten 

and  eat,  of  cub  and  lion,  of  child  and  adult,  are  genuine 
and  natural  distinct  i  -Mate  tli-- 


FALLACIES  ABOUT  GENIUS.  315 

ment  when  a  boy  becomes  a  man  ?  This  moment  cannot 
be  ascertained  with  certainty  within  several  years.  A 
margin  of  at  least  five  years  must  be  allowed  for  variation 
of  opinion  concerning  definitions. 

Genius,  then,  is  but  developed  talent,  and  the  lowest 
degree  of  talent  holds  in  potentiality  the  highest  degree  of 
genius. 

Talent  in  man  corresponds  to  strength  of  material  in  the 
engine,  which  is  approximately  indicated  by  the  figures 
on  the  steam  gauge.  It  is  the  steady  power  of  resist- 
ance. But  there  is  another  quality  of  the  engine  of  a  sub- 
tiler  nature.  It  may  be  called  sensitiveness.  This  qual- 
ity depends  not  upon  the  size  and  strength  of  material, 
but  upon  the  "  finish  "  and  the  nice  adjustment  of  parts, 
whereby  friction  is  diminished.  It  enables  us  to  deter- 
mine the  per  cent,  of  discount  that  must  be  made,  on  the 
indications  of  the  steam  gauge,  in  estimating  the  efficiency 
or  working  power  of  the  engine. 

Now  genius  is  that  in  the  organization  which  corre- 
sponds to  this  quality  in  the  engine.  It  may  be  termed 
organic  quality.  It  is  the  finish  of  the  brain,  and  by  it 
the  mental  powers  are  made  responsive.  It  is  great  just 
in  proportion  to  the  per  cent,  of  organic  power  utilized. 
Hence  spontaneity  is  the  one  word  that  approaches  near- 
est to  a  synonym  of  genius. 

Since  genius  results  from  a  quality  of  the  organism,  we 
see  why  it  often  seems  to  defy  the  organic  law  that  size 


318  '•//:. 

measures  power.    Emerson  is  a  puzzle  to  ;  .;ist«, 

\vith  all  the  »|naliti 

paribus."     This  fact,  liowcver,  is  no  disparagement  to  the 

:  nomy,  the    oldest  of  sciences,  must 

recognize   its   insolvable    problems.     It   cannot   trace    the 

t   through   its  hyperbolic   and  parabolic 
nu'iital  science  cannot  solve  the  "  mystery  of  ^  For 

genius   lies  beyond  the  reach  of  science.      It  is  a  comet 
whose  orbit  is  the  infinite  parabola. 

There  are   degrees   of  organic   quality   far  above  that 
which  the  phrenologist  marks  "sr  ;<1  in  these  rare- 

fied realms  dwells  genius.      Nay,  genius  is  the  reigning 
spirit  of  the  realm  itself. 

It  should  be  a  pleasing  thought  to  the  great  mass  of  man- 
kind, that  the  most  glorious  achievements  of  the  race,  the 
aggregate  of  which  constitutes  most  that  we  prize  in  his- 
tory, have  not  been  the  products  of  what  men  term  genius. 
But  talent,  with  toiling  brain  and  sweating  brow,  has 
wrought  the  revolutions  whose  issues  are  the  landmarks 
of  history.  But  this  does  not  debase  the  glorious  mi 
of  genius.  Had  it  not  been  for  genius,  the  great  problems 
that  talent  has  solved,  would  never  have  been  formulated. 

Let  the  young  man,  whether  he  has  talent  or  genius,  be 
content  to  labor  in  his  own  sphere,  and  let  his  motto  be — 

"  Seize  this  very  minute, 
What  yon  am  do,  or  dream  you  can,  begin  it. 
Boldness  has  genius,  power,  and  magic  in  it. 
Only  engage,  and  then  the  mind  grows  heated, — 
Begin,  and  then  the  work  will  be  completed." 


COURAGE 
TO  MEET  LIFE'S  DUTIES. 


UMAN  life  is  fraught  with  duties.  The 
fact  of  existence  imposes  them  upon 
every  one.  There  is  no  hour  of  our  lives 
that  does  not  hold  a  note  against  us. 
Every  moment  is  a  creditor.  Our  lives 
and  what  they  signify  are  so  woven  into 
the  web  of  universal  being  that  there  is 
never  a  moment  of  release. 

But  by  far  the  larger  portion  of  life's 
duties  lie  along  the  soul's  path  of  ag- 
gressive movement,  and  require  some- 
thing of  courage  to  meet  them. 

Courage  is  that  quality  of  the  soul 
«rhich  makes  it  fearless  of  consequences  in  the  presence  of 
opposition.  With  this  definition,  courage  becomes  an  ele- 
ment in  the  performance  of  every  duty  of  life,  for  the 
human  soul  is  confronted  by  no  duty  which  is  not  armed. 
Every  duty  demands  an  aggressive  act,  and  hence  courage — 
and  he  who  shrinks  from  a  duty  is  a  coward.  The  duties 
of  life  consist  in  the  aggregate  of  all  the  acts  toward  which 
the  sense  of  right,  of  honor,  and  of  self  respect  impel  us. 


Lit-  ia  of  courage,  a«  many  as 

lines  df  hiimar  i 

eal    <  which   dares   to 

I 

:t.      Tiii-    l'..nn  c»f  e, 
means  low.      It  is  true  that  it  is  tin-  :"• 

ul)  of  the   wild  beast,  and   which   b» 
that   departn  Mian's    nature    \\hidi  he  po> 

common    with    tlie    brute  creati."  ithout   it   all   the 

higher  powers  of  man  would   lie  helj.lfss  prisoner^  in  the 
hands    of  circumstances.      We    would    not    exalt   plr 

ge  to  that  position   which  we  would  n>>i<jn  ; 
and  yet  we  must  regard  i'  -lile  att 

man.     Wa>hington's   int.  :id   honor  and   j 

might   h;i  ;u  vain,  for  without   physical  coi 

they  could  never  have  made  a  nation  grand.     '1 
Christians  might   have  di*-d   from  tin-  ;heir 

joy,  luit  without  the  physical  courage  that  scorns  the  : 
there  would  never  have  been  a  martyr. 

But  there  are  higher  forms  of  courage.     To  be  ;. 
one  must  have  something  more  than  the  courage  ; 
high  degree  of  temperature.     He  must  have  the  c. 
think    the  unthought    and  speak    the  unspoken,    and  not 
only  to  think  and  speak  thus,  but  to  do  it  amid  the  jeers 
of  hatred  and  the  hisses  of  calumny.     Without   this 
of  courage  no  triumphal*  would  to-day  move  uj  on 


COURAGE  TO  MEET  LIFE'S  DUTIES.  319 

the  waters,  no  engine  would  jar  the  earth  with  its  iron 
hoofs,  no  magic  wires  would  belt  the  globe  with  zones  of 
love. 

History  would  be  unstained  with  blood,  and  the  simple 
record  would  read  as  sweetly  as  the  story  of  a  maiden's 
life ;  and  yet  out  of  the  rayless  midnight  of  that  history 
would  rise  no  star.  The  darkness  of  the  past  has  been 
illumed  by  the  fagot  fires  kindled  at  the  feet  of  courage. 
No  grand  libraries  would  adorn  our  cities,  had  not  moral 
courage  dared  to  pen  its  own  doom. 

Every  great  book  in  history  was  born  amid  the  death 
throes  of  its  heroic  author. 

The  steps  of  the  world's  progress  have  been  over  the  red 
altars  of  human  sacrifice. 

Physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  courage  have  been  the 
grand  leaders  in  the  ceaseless  conquest  of  thought.  God 
bless  the  martyrs  to  science  and  religion !  bless  those 
whose  pale,  thoughtful  brows  have  pressed  through  weary 
days  and  lingering  nights  against  the  bars  of  prison  win- 
dows ! 

It  is  often  said  that  the  age  of  heroism  is  past,  since,  as  it 
is  claimed,  there  is  no  longer  any  demand  for  great  displays 
of  courage.  The  inventor  is  no  longer  pointed  at  with 
scorn,  nor  accused  of  too  intimate  association  with  the  devil. 

The  authors  of  new  thought  are  not  now  doomed  to 
starvation.  But  notwithstanding  all  this  there  never  was 
a  period  in  the  history  of  the  world  when  life  demanded  so 


320 

much  of  courage  as  Unlay.     The  most  d 

cow;;  th.it  which  makes  u  to  be  ourselves. 

Tli>  and 

fearless  spirit  of  individi.  A  thousand  years  ago  one 

could  be  conservative  and  nut  fall  behind  the  race, 
now,  while   humanity  rides  on  steam  and  light i. 
cannot  afford  to  imitate  the  clumsy  gait  of  those  v. 
through  life  on  foot. 

With  the  momentum  of  six  thousand  years  him, 

man  is  now  rushing  with  terrific  speed  toward  the  goal  of 
his  destiny.  He  started  as  a  long  tmin  starts  from  its  sta- 
tion, with  snail  pace  and  amid  the  tolling  bells  of  dying 
martyrs.  One  did  not  need  then  to  have  a  high  degree  of 
individuality.  He  could  keep  with  the  race  while  he  re- 
mained almost  at  rest.  There  was  little  demand  tlu 
this  form  of  courage,  for  every  one  was  like  every  other, 
and  individuality  was  an  attribute  of  the  nation  rather 
than  of  the  man.  Then  the  individual  man  was  a  part  of 
the  mass  with  no  visible  line  of  demarcation  between,  but 
now  he  is  a  detached  fragment,  and  must  maintain  his 
own  identity  and  assert  his  own  individuality  by  a  cease* 
less  act  of  courage,  or  be  hurled  as  refuse  into  the  world'i 
intellectual  and  moral  sewer. 

No  age  of  human  history  has  offered  such  a  grand  re- 
ward to  courage  as  the  present.  In  politics  and  religion 
we  see  the  disgusting  cowardice  that  makes  men  slaves  to 
base  schemes  and  cunning  tyranny. 


COURAGE  TO  MEET  LIFE'S  DUTIES.  321 

There  are  few  men  wlio  dare  to  think  for  themselves ; 
they  must  see  what  the  political  paper  or  the  minister  says 
before  they  have  the  courage  to  say  what  they  believe. 
Few  ever  consider  what  a  powerful  factor  in  life's  pro- 
gramme is  moral  courage.  Let  the  young  man  learn  to  think 
foi  himself.  The  feeblest  thought  that  was  ever  born  of  a 
human  brain,  if  it  be  the  unrestricted  product  of  that 
brain  and  comes  forth  unfettered  by  fear  of  nonconformity, 
is  a  grander  thing  than  the  proudest  creation  of  genius, 
if  that  creation  be  shaped  in  trusting  subservience  to  man. 

One  courageous  thought  is  worth  more  than  volumes  of 
prostituted  genius.  Originality  is  not  a  peculiarity  of 
great  minds.  The  smallest  minds  may  become  wonder- 
fully original  simply  through  courage,  by  daring  to  ques- 
tion that  which  they  read  and  hear.  Of  course  the  disa- 
greeable habit  of  egotism  is  not  to  be  encouraged.  One 
should  presume  himself  ignorant  of  all  things  and  then 
dare  to  question  all  things. 

Authority  should  not  be  disregarded,  and  yet  it  should 
be  taken  as  affording  merely  a  presumption,  and  not  a 
demonstration.  The  truths  that  fall  within  the  ken  of 
human  vision  are  few.  All  truths  cannot  be  seen  even  by 
the  most  gifted.  The  spider  sees  many  things  that  the 
eagle  overlooks.  As  much  depends  upon  the  attitude  of 
the  eye  as  upon  its  power,  and  there  are  little  truths  and 
certain  aspects  of  great  truths  which  must,  from  their  na- 
ture, be  discerned  by  little  minds  alone.  It  is  cowardice 
21 


to  bi1'.  IMato  says  KO.     The  first 

III  daring   \\ith  which  i: 

have  it  Hi 

mid  unmannerly  habit  of  disputing  f>*r  tlie  sake  of  d; 
ing  is  in  any  way  a  ss. 

:   dispute  in  a  broader  sense,  that 

in  which  it  means  to  question  \\L  ibili- 

ties,  to  demand  consistency,  and  to  doubt,  if  i. 
civilization  of  the  nineteenth   century  was  born  of  d. 
and  questions,  whose  answers  hu\  !      .  rson 

says:    "Have  courage  not  to  adopt  another's  o 

That  certainly   means  inueli.      It   ii: 

stand   upon  our  own  individuality,  and  dare  to  respond  to 
our  own  name  in  the  roll  call  of  K 

Courage  gives  a  man  a  kind  of  magic  control  over  e\ 
thing  in  nature.     It  actually  strengthens  the  muscles  of 
the  body. 

The  courageous  man  can  lift   a  heavier  weight,  other 
things  being  equal,  than  the  timid  man;  he  can  do  : 
work  in  the  same  time  and  with  '  .u-tion. 

Courage  adds  to  one's  peace  of  mind.     The  timid 
is  never  at  peace.     To  him  life's  dir  form 

of  living,  malicious  i  re.  v.h-'se  only  desire  tt 

to  be  to  defeat  his  efforts  and 

.r  weakens  every  fiber  of  our  being,  physical,  intel- 
lectual,  and    moral ;    which,    in    effect,    is    the    same   as 


COURAGE  TO  MEET  LIFE'S  DUTIES.  323 

strengthening  the  obstacles  and  resistances  of  life.  What- 
ever strengthens  the  muscles  virtually  lightens  the  weight. 
Thus  does  courage  give  to  mail  a  control  over  inanimate 
nature. 

But  not  alone  over  inanimate  nature,  for  he  who  pos- 
sesses courage  holds  the  wand  that  rules  the  world.  He 
sets  the  world  a  thought-copy  which  it  gladly  follows. 
There  is  something  in  the  glance  of  courage,  born  of  con- 
scious power,  before  which  man  and  beast  alike  quail. 
Under  the  gaze  of  the  wild  beast,  man  is  safe  till  he  lose* 
his  courage. 

"  Ah!  from  your  bosom  banish,  if  you  can, 
Those  fatal  guests:  and  first  the  demon  fear, 
That  trembles  at  impossible  events; 
Lest  aged  Atlas  should  resign  his  load, 
And  heaven's  eternal  battlements  rush  down. 
Is  there  an  evil  worse  than  fear  itself  ? 
And  what  avails  it  that  indulgent  heaven 
From  mortal  eyes  has  wrapt  the  woes  to  come, 
If  we,  ingenious  to  torment  ourselves, 
Grow  pale  at  hideous  fictions  of  our  own! 
Enjoy  the  present;  nor  with  needless  cares, 
Of  what  may  spring  from  blind  misfortune's  womb 
Appall  the  surest  hour  that  life  bestows. 
Serene,  and  master  of  yourself,  prepare 
For  what  may  come;  and  leave  the  rest  to  heareifc" 


THE   IMPORTANT  STEP. 


"  V 


tl  v  of  ever  «  ;i  time 

\\licii  an  iiuj  u-p  mu 

moment  i'led.      '1 

whieh  tlii.-  step  is  lal. 

fraught  \\ith  the  might:* 
tor  weal  or  IT06.      It   hi''1 
man  life.     An  error  here  cai, 

A  happy   (lt-i-i>i«.n  .    \\hi.h 

nothing  on  cartli  c-an  In-  r(.ii)}>arr<l. 

It  is  the  ei:  ik  lightly  on  this  suhjci  b, 

Irr  tlie   mo>t   a\\Tul    i»ue  of  lift-  a>  a  lit 
mirth  and  idle  jest.     There  ean  1  .iht  tliat  thi> 

torn  lies  at  the  r  large  j-  ._•  of  the 

that  mar  the  happiness  of  t!. 

So  long  as  youni: 

with  each  other's  affections,  as  if  that  were   their  hi. 
use,  the  world  will  be  the  theater  of  untold  sorrow.     It  is 
true  that  the  love  element  will  :  duerd  to 

the  standard  of  a  commercial  tr  I:    : 

the  liberty  to  spread  :  o\\n 

divine  romanee.     We  must  not  take  away  the  :  .  liieli 

i»  its  vital  breath. 


m 


YES  OR  NO 


THE  IMPORTANT  STEP.  325 

And  yet  there  are  certain  phases  of  it  that  may  and 
.vhould  be  submitted  to  the  tribunal  of  reason.  We  do  not 
believe  that  reason  can  in  any  sense  furnish  the  motive 
power  of  love.  We  even  doubt  if  nature  intended  it  to 
play  any  part  whatever  in  the  programme. 

We  belong  to  that  school  which  teaches  that  each  and 
every  part  of  man's  nature  contains  a  principle  of  wisdom 
in  itself,  and  holds  the  elements  of  its  own  regulation.  It 
is  not  the  natural  office  of  reason  to  dictate  the  amount  or 
quality  of  food  that  we  should  take,  and  yet  in  the  case  of 
dyspepsia  it  often  becomes  necessary  that  reason  should 
perform  this  function,  for  the  natural  instinct  is  then  de- 
throned and  there  is  no  longer  any  trustworthy  guide,  and 
reason  may  in  this  case  serve  as  a  poor  substitute. 

The  foregoing  illustration  contains  the  whole  truth  con- 
cerning the  relation  of  reason  to  the  love  principle.  If  the 
delicate  sentiments  have  not  been  outraged,  and  the  tastes 
are  un vitiated,  they  will  invariably  lead  to  desirable  re- 
sults, when  the  proper  conditions  are  supplied.  But  in 
most  cases  this  subtile  instinct  is  but  an  imperfect  guide, 
because  it  has  been  perverted  by  improper  action. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  becomes  necessary  to  sub- 
mit the  dyspeptic  caprice  of  the  unregulated  love  to  the 
sound  judgment  of  reason. 

It  is  said  that  "  love  is  blind,"  but  this  fancy  originated 
in  the  observed  phenomena  of  its  perversion,  and  not  of 
its  normal  action.  There  is  nothing  that  can  see  so  well 


KM 

as  pure  love.     It  is  all  eyes.     N<>  «•§  of 

i.-teet  the  motes  which  its  naked  eye 

The   veiling    in;.  hose    love  intuit  inns  are 

uneloiid.-d  will  seldom  make  a  mistake  in  the  disposal  of 
tlu-  affe<  -lions. 

Tl;.  '  r,  a  danger  from  cue  other  sourr> 

we  will  presently  mention.      It   is  the   theory 

;hat  gir!  ladies  should  n 

to  associate  f:  ;i  until  they  contemplate 

matrimony.     There  seems  to  be  a  sickly  sent 
lent  on  this  subject.     The  young  lady  mi; 
was  a  kind  of  special  j>:  >•  in  her  love  nf 

that  it  would  have  been  absolutely  impossible  for  her  to 
love  any  one  else.     This  diseased  sentiment  is  coi 
both  sexes,  but   it  exists  for  the  most   part  in  those  who 
been   excluded  from   the  society    of  the  other  sex. 
fact  that  girls  who  have  brothers  and  boys  who  have 
sisters  always  make  the  wisest  matrimonial  selection*,  is 
one  that  bears  significantly  on  this  subject.     The  lady  who 
has  never  been  permitted  to  associate  with  gentlemen,  and 
who  has  no  brot!  likely  to  make  an,: 

the  bestowal  of  her  affections.  The  conjugal  choice  is 
made  through  an  instinct  that  is  attracted  by  tlfe 
genial,  and  repelled  by  the  uncongenial.  But  there  ia, 
however,  a  faint  attraction  between  the  sexes  even  when 
the  parties  are  not  conjugally  adapted,  and  if  the  young 
lady  has  never  had  an  opportunity  to  compare  this  faint 


TEE  IMPORTANT  STEP.  32? 

attraction,  which  she  may  have  felt,  with  stronger  ones,  she 
will  be  very  apt  to  misinterpret  its  significance,  and  regard 
this  slight  attraction  as  a  positive  impulse  of  her  nature. 
This,  then,  is  the  source  of  danger.  It  is  the  fact  that 
nature  seldom  permits  an  absolute  repulsion  between  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  even  between  those  who  are  ill  adapted  as 
conjugal  partners,  but  simply  a  weakening  of  the  attraction. 

Hence  it  becomes  necessary  in  order  to  rightly  interpret 
our  impulses  that  we  should  have  the  opportunity  to  com- 
pare them. 

If  nature  had  sharply  drawn  the  lines  of  attraction  and 
repulsion  between  the  compatible  and  the  incompatible, 
there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  a  matrimonial  mistake. 
But  since  she  prefers  to  suggest,  by  a  weakened  attraction, 
rather  than  to  command  by  a  positive  repulsion,  it  requires 
a  little  acuteness  to  understand  her  suggestions. 

It  is  a  fact  proved  from  every  realm  of  natural  history 
that  it  is  the  female's  rightful  function  to  make  the  matri- 
monial selection.  The  lioness  accepts  her  mate  only  after 
ample  opportunities  for  comparison  and  choice.  In  this, 
as  in  many  other  respects,  the  higher  intelligence  may 
learn  a  lesson  from  the  lower.  The  young  lady  should 
have  the  opportunity  of  making  her  selection  from  a  wide 
circle  of  gentlemen  friends,  otherwise  she  cannot  so  easily 
distinguish  the  false  from  the  true. 

The  highest  possible  compliment  that  can  be  paid  to  a 
young  man  is  to  be  "  singled  out  "  by  the  divine  instinct 


OUL 

.-.ad  rough    her  •  little 

.nee. 

>  advocating  tl 
'irting. 
to  win,  :th  no  s« 

sport,  and  pleasure 

that  some  experience  in  bein;j  pain  anoth- 

by  cunning  coquettes  for  the 

ruthless   purpose  of  seeing  them  bleed  when  cast   aside 
than  for  any  other  purpose. 

to  express  our  firm  belief  that  the 
of  flirtation  arc   more  •  ,tnd  (lisa 

t'n>5r  :han    those    of   i 

as   the  frost  blights  th<> 

buds.     They  freeze  the  b  ll,  and 

leave  :tabar:  the  cornfield  whose 

fences  h.i  :  away.  tb«-y  leave  the  h- 

•.ring  herds  of  vice. 

Hut  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  may  associate  without 
llirtation.     There  is  nothing  hotter  for  a  young  man 
to  associate  as  a  tViend   \vith  a  pure-minded  'ady, 

and  the  benefit  is  equally 

•*n  love  \\-  makes  a  mis- 

Love  should  never  be  contemplated   1 
'-ho  cannot   first  be  firm  frie:  B  .t   such  exeV 

association  is  not  at  all  necessary.     It  is,  perhaps,  as  well 


THE  IMPORTANT  STEP.  329 

that  the  young  man  or  woman  should  have  a  circle  of 
friends  and  acquaintances  made  up  of  both  sexes.  In  this 
case,  if  the  early  training  has  been  what  it  should  have  been, 
and  the  natural  and  pure  impulses  of  the  child  have  not 
been  interfered  with,  there  will  seldom  be  a  need  of  any 
other  form  of  association. 

One  of  the  worst  things  a  parent  can  do  is  to  shame  a 
little  girl  because  she  is  inclined  to  play  with  little  boys. 
She  should  be  taught  to  feel  that  there  is  nothing  wrong 
or  unladylike  in  such  conduct.  So  the  boy  should  not  be 
teased  by  his  parents  or  older  brothers  and  sisters  because 
he  smiles  upon  a  little  girl,  or  manifests  a  preference  for 
her  society.  Such  preferences,  of  course,  should  not  be 
strong,  since  they  would  then  be  unnatural  and  w.ould  in- 
dicate precocity,  which  should  be  dreaded  as  among  the 
worst  calamities  to  which  childhood  is  subject. 

Young  ladies  may  allow  themselves  to  be  frequently  es- 
corted by  gentlemen,  but  should  not  permit  the  exclusive  at- 
tention of  any  particular  one  unless  from  the  divine  motive 
of  pure  affection,  which  alone  can  sanctify  such  association. 

The  best  girls,  the  best  sweethearts,  the  best  wives,  and 
the  best  mothers  are  those  who  have  been  the  intimate  but 
innocent  associates  of  young  men. 

But  so  long  as  so  many,  especially  of  young  ladies,  have 
not  been  permitted  to  associate  with  the  other  sex,  and 
still  more  have,  by  flirtations,  so  vitiated  their  intui- 
tiye  perceptions  of  congeniality  that  these  are  no  longer 


.  perhaps,  as  uc  1!  some  I 

regard  t»  tho.se  <•.•.><•  h  it  becomes  necessa: 

slit  ute  reason  in  place  of 

In  :  v  to  ascr:  iirec- 

:i;ider  the  given  eir-- 
:v  in  a  healthy  state,  or  if  it  were  to  act  ui. 

.ilitions. 

Its  -  as  strictly  subject  to  law  as  that  of  gra 

lion  and  may  be  studied  with  the  most  satisf.. 
Love's  preferences  are  not  unreasonable.      1        '  .".. 
dark-eyed,  young    man    does    not    single  out    the    plump, 
blonde,  blue-eyed  maiden  without  a  cause. 

The  rosy    cheeked    brunette,  with    face  and    shoulders 
shaped  like  her  father's,  does  not  toss  her  raven  locks  invit- 
ingly to  the  blue-eyed,  fair-skinned,  shor:. 
guine  young  man,  from  any  mere  whim  of  la 
The  hand  that  guides  the  stars  is  not  more  ui 
than  the  law  of  sexual  preferences.     Nor  is  this  law  hid- 
den and  inscrutable.     It  lies  upon  the  su: 
easily  discovered  and  formula 

Briefly  stated,  ii  is  simply  the  law  by   which  individual 
eccentricities  are  prevented  from  coming  un<!  .w  of 

nient,  or  more  properly,  by  which  the  law  of  t: 

to  neutralize  them.     Without  this  ] 
eccentriciti.-s  w<>uM  ;  !ly  accumulate  and  reinforce 

.til  all  the  affinities  of  the  race  would  l» 
in  un  .able  differences. 


THE  IMPORTANT  STEP.  331 

Jtist  iii  so  far  as  one  departs  from  symmetry  in  his  o\vn 
physical  or  mental  make  up,  this  law  causes  him  to  prefer 
in  the  other  sex,  those  opposite  peculiarities  which  will 
counterbalance  his  own,  and  which,  when  blended,  and 
subjected  to  the  law  of  heredity,  re-establishes  the  lost 
symmetry.  Each  sex  desires  in  the  other  the  complement 
of  its  own  eccentricities.  There  is  a  neutral  point  where 
each  desires  its  own  likeness.  This  point  is  absolute  sym- 
metry and  perfection.  It  corresponds  to  the  neutral  point 
of  a  magnet.  On  either  side  of  this  point  like  eccentrici- 
ties repel,  and  unlike  attract. 

If  a  human  being  could  be  found  perfect  and  symmetri- 
cal in  all  respects,  that  person  would  be  drawn  toward  one 
of  the  other  sex  exactly  like  himself.  This  law  of  sexual 
preference  would  in  his  case  be  entirely  suspended,  as 
there  would  be  nothing  for  it  to  do. 

He  would  be  left  to  act  in  accordance  with  another  law, 
which  is  antagonistic  to  that  of  sexual  preferences.  It  is 
that  by  which  we  are  drawn  toward  those  possessing  the 
same  peculiarities  as  ourselves. 

These  two  tendencies,  though  antagonistic,  are  not  in- 
consistent. The  one  acts  between  the  sexes,  the  other 
between  those  of  the  same  sex.  In  the  case  of  perfect 
symmetry  which  we  have  supposed,  the  latter  law  would 
act  even  between  persons  of  opposite  sexes. 

Human  eccentricities  may  be  conceived  as  arcs  of  circles 
circumscribed  about  the  point  of  absolute  perfection.  The 


i   t  be- 
nding arcs  v. 

H.t  :hcn,  all   tli.r 

:i  our  ii. 

•ujugal  adaptation  1 

simply  t»  as.  .  excesses  and  de- 

• 
sex. 

Th  limit,  however,  to  the  decree  of   difference 

that  is  permi  ,      h  should 

cannot  symputhi/.e  with   the  i.lh<-:. 

which  interest  the 

unusually  refined  will  naturally  1  .1  not 

.  but  somewhat  gruff,  and  .-he  will    often  \x 
proud  of  his  deep  .mlu-d  1.  arse 

:md  vulgarity  she  cannot  sympathize  with,  and  >], 

k  that  derive  of  difference.     On' 

neetl  <'toneu'  h  one  tune  fron. 

another;    hut  th>  ntly  endowed,  a* 

ipt-ri. -rity  of  the  other. 
It   is   not  so  necessary   that 
in  respeet  to  talei  ect  to  chara 

tion.     The  talents,  tastes  and  proficiencies  OUtJ  be  in  the 
same  general  line  in  1  but  all  j  peculi.ir 

ind  all  eecentri  ion  should  be  consci 

entiously  submitted  to  the  law  of  sexual  preference. 


THE  IMPORTANT  STEP.  333 

But  a  riglit  matrimonial  selection  is  not  all  that  is  nec- 
essary. The  preservation  of  love  is  the  finest  of  the  fine 
arts.  To  "win  a  heart  is  within  the  capacity  of  most  men, 
but  to  keep  it  lies  within  the  power  of  few.  He  who  shall 
discover  the  magic  secret  of  preserving  love,  and  shall  -in- 
duce the  world  to  adopt  it,  shall  confer  the  grandest  bless- 
ing ever  yet  conferred  by  mortal.  He  shall  deserve  a 
prouder  fame  than  ever  draped  a  funeral  car,  or  marched 
beneath  a  nation's  drooping  banners.  Humanity  shall 
write  his  name  close  beside  that  which  is  written  upon  the 
universal  heart. 

This  tribute  will  not  seem  overwrought  to  those  who 
understand  and  realize  how  much  of  human  sin  is  traceable 
to  the  absence  of  love  in  parentage.  The  world  can  never 
know  how  large  a  part  of  its  idiotic,  its  intellectually  and 
morally  deformed,  were  the  unwelcome  offspring  of  un- 
loved and  unloving  mothers. 

It  cannot  be  that  love  was  intended  only  for  life's  rosy 
dawn,  that  its  first  thrill  is  its  death  throe.  Could  God  so 
mock  the  brightest  and  sweetest  hopes  of  earth  as  to  or- 
dain that  love  should  grow  cold  and  vanish  like  a  summer 
dream  while  yet  the  fragrance  of  the  orange  blossoms  lin- 
gers, and  the  bridal  vow  still  trembles  on  the  unkissed  lips? 
Is  it  true  that  love  is  but  the  brilliant  rainbow  that  spans 
the  storm  wrapt  arch  of  life,  and  trembles  for  a  moment 
through  the  silver  mist  of  human  tears,  then  fades  forever 
while  we  gaze  ? 


\V  ><1  has  : 

in. in  the 

;    in  all   the  firu 

huiiKin  j'»\-s,  \vhi:  <larU 

.iul  glorious  then  Miiks  and   falls, 
,mnl  l»y  its  (»\v: 

a   darkcnrd   j.ath   l"«>iv\<  .\v  of 

iity  demands  the  preservation  nf  I  pun- 

ishrs  its  withdrawal  with  intellectual  and  in  <-y. 

The  magic  secret   of  which    we  spoke  lies  not   in  the 
means  of  j 'reserving  love,  Imt  in  securing  .Id's  con- 

sent to  use  tl.  I  that  lie  within  its  reach.     Th- 

no  secret  in  the  : 

They  are  contained   in  the  formulated  expression  of  a 
well  known   law  that  love  cannot  live  unless  its  ph;. 

is  entirely  and  completely  subjected  to  its  spiritual. 
Spiritual  love  lives  by  its  own  right,  but  the  phy 

only  by  lease  of  the  spiritual.    They  can  live 
only  on  one  changeless  and  eternal   condition,  and    that 
condition  is  the  perfect   supremacy  of  the  spiritual  over 
tho  physical.     This  then  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  the  pres- 
ervation of  wedded  love.     When  this  condition  is  rev* 
the  spiritual  phase  soon  dies  altogether,  and  at  last  even 
the  physical  itself,  and  two  hearts  that  once  beat  tog' 
•red  past  reuniting. 

it   the  world   so  stubbornly 
fuses  to  profit  by  its  own  experience.     Every  untried 


THE  IMPORTANT  STEP.  335 

that  sails  so  proudly  from  the  port  with  its  "freight  of 
spirits  twain  "  passes  on  every  side  a  shivering  wreck ;  yet 
they  heed  riot  the  wailing  cries  from  the  perishing,  but 
sail  straight  onward  to  the  fatal  rock  on  which  nature  has 
set  the  seal  of  her  deepest  damnation. 

We  have  pointed  out  the  divine  means  by  which  alone 
love  can  live.  Try  it,  O  man  !  O  woman !  and  be  blessed. 
Try  it  by  all  the  holy  visions  of  your  hopeful  youth.  Try  it 
by  all  the  divine  significance  of  heredity,  by  all  that  being 
signifies,  by  all  the  prayers  and  tender  yearnings  at  the 
cradle  side,  by  your  hopes  of  heaven,  try  it. 

Let  woman  remember  that  this  doctrine  appeals  to  her 
with  doubled  force.  It  is  through  you,  O  woman,  that  the 
world  must  heed  it.  Whatever  other  wrongs  you  may  sub- 
mit to,  whatever  rights  may  be  denied  you  in  the  social 
world,  remember  that  in  this  matter  you  should  proclaim 
yourself  the  sovereign  ruler,  nor  brook  a  question  why. 
Your  voice  may  be  silenced  in  the  roaring  mart,  you  may 
be  pushed  aside  by  the  mad  crowd,  but  behind  the  silken 
folds  that  hide  the  sanctity  of  wedded  joy  you  are  the 
sovereign  divinely  ordained.  By  the  necessities  and  consis- 
tencies of  your  being,  by  every  argument  from  the  exhaust- 
less  realm  of  natural  history,  by  every  law  of  nature  and 
of  God,  yoa  bear  the  badge  of  rightful  sovereignty. 

'  Fair  youth,  too  timid  to  lift  yosr  eyes 
To  the  maiden  with  downcast  look, 
As  you  mingle  the  gold  and  hrown  of  your  curls 
Together  over  a  book; 


A  fluttering  hope  that  «he  dare  not  HUM 

Itooorn  heaves; 

Ai.  r  fingen 

rit  the  leaves. 

«•  yon  two  will  walk  .-. 
year  at  tome  sweet  day'«  elate, 
And  j..iir  talk  will  fall  u>  .  i  :..ne, 

i  liken  bar  cheek  to  a  rose; 
And  tli.  -ii  her  I.T-C  will  tiii-ili  and  glow, 

liappy  red; 

Ontbloahing  all  the  flower*  that  grow 
Anear  iu  the  garden-bed. 

"  If  you  plead  fur  hope,  she  may  bashful  drop 
Her  head  - 

And  you  will  be  lovers  and  sweethearts  then 
Aa  youths  and  maidens  go: 
Lovers  and  sweethearts,  dreaming  dreams, 


With  never  a  thought  that  life  is  made 
Of  great  realities; 

"  That  the  cords  of  love  must  be  strong  aa  tloarh 

h  hold  and  keep  a  heart, 
Not  daisy-chains,  that  snap  In  the  breeze, 
Or  break  with  their  weight  apart; 
For  the  pretty  colors  of  youth's  fair  morn 
Fade  nut  from  the  n<  • 
And  hlii-hint;  love*  in  the  roses  born 
Alas!  with  the  roses  die! 

"  Bnt  the  love,  that  when  youth's  morn  b  past, 
Still  sweet  and  true  survives, 

fuith  we  need  to  lean  upon 
In  the  rri*os  of  our  lives: 
The  love  that  shin<-  in  the  eyes  grown  dim, 
In  the  roioe  that  trembles,  speaks; 
And  sees  the  roses  that  a  year  ago 
Withered  and  di.  .-eka; 

:  hat  sheds  a  halo  rouud  us  still, 
Of  soft  immortal  li^-lit. 
Wl.'  _'e  youth's  golden  coronal 

r  a  crown  of  >;lv.  r  \vL 


THE  IMPORTANT  STEP. 


337 


A  love  for  sickness  and  for  health, 
For  rapture  and  for  tears ; 
That  will  live  for  us,  and  bear  with  us 
Through  all  our  mortal  years. 

"  And  such  there  is ;  there  are  lovers  here, 
On  the  brink  of  the  grave  that  stand, 
Who  shall  cross  to  the  hills  beyond,  and  walk 
Forever  hand  in  hand! 

Pray,  youth  and  maid,  that  your  end  be  thaks- 
Who  are  joined  no  more  to  part; 
For  death  comes  not  to  the  living  soul, 
Nor  age  to  the  loving  heart! " 


LEAVING   HOME 


Vr.RY  one  i  "ting 

t   cannot  fr: 
:ig  wini: 

'.{    that 

••.      If    the    chiM:  :i    at 

home  through  life,  if  tl.'  the   n.-r 

r  of  things  the  institution  of 

V,    for    each    ho: 

with    the    accumulating  .    till    at 

length  it  wi.uld   outgrow  tl 
define  a  home,  and   tin-  institution  would  1 

To  avert  this  disaster  n. 
d  that  the  child  shall  leave  his  home  wl: 
competent  to  and  should  ori; 

:>>r   home.      Thus   each  generation  repeats 
gramme  of  tl:  'ing. 

The  propor  function  of  the  home  is  to  serve  as  the  nur- 

oung  g< 

and  womanhood  till  they  have  become  sufiit 
to  compel  society  ami  Id  them 

physical  and  mental  sustenance.     And  yet  tl. 


'•,"-. 'j, 
V  >-, 


LEAVING  HOME.  339 

hardly  serves  our  purpose,  since  the  child  'does  not  leave 
his  home  to  enter  into  the  great  tide  of  the  world  and  be- 
come a  flouting  speck  on  the  turbulent  surface  of  society, 
but,  like  the  young  tree,  he  is  simply  transplanted  from 
the  nursery  to  become  the  fruitful  source  of  another  nur- 
sery. There  is  no  natural  requirement  of  life  that  is  not 
preceded  by  a  desire  and  impulse  in  that  direction.  Ac- 
cordingly the  young  man,  as  he  approaches  the  age  of  ma- 
turity, begins  to  feel  the  gentle  stimulus  of  a  curious 
enterprise  urging  him  to  look  beyond  the  walls  of  the  old 
home  out  into  the  great  world.  He  hears  the  distant  hum 
of  the  great  city,  he  feels  the  electric  throb  of  the  rushing 
train,  and  longs  to  mingle  in  the  ceaseless  tumult  of  life, — 

In  the  strife  of  brain  and  pen, 

'Mid  the  rumble  of  the  presses 
Where  they  measure  men  with  men. 

Under  the  impulse  of  this  feeling,  he  leaves  the  old 
home,  but  not  forever.  No  young  man  or  woman  ever 
leaves  home  with  the  intention  of  abandoning  it  forever. 
The  dutiful  child  carries  away  the  home  with  him.  He  is 
himself  a  product  of  the  home.  Every  feature  of  his  char- 
acter reflects  the  character  of  the  home.  As  the  tree  re- 
cords the  character  of  the  soil  and  climate,  so  the  young 
man  carries  ever  with  him  the  old  home.  Every  mother 
U  carried  into  the  city  on  the  brow  of  her  son.  Her  care, 
her  love,  her  examples,  her  prayers,  are  all  written  there. 
The  city  knows  the  country  in  this  way.  It  reads  the 


840 

:  v  <>f  tho  country  on  t! 

'.'.i;!d    [ 

liich   they  ;ire  .sendi: 

;he  hill 

world,  and   tin-  silent   in!: 

with  the  surging  ;  th.it  di!  :i  life 

along  the  crowd 

M.'ther!    your  life  is  not   insignificant.     It 
cannot    1  :om    universal    I 

-hall  bear  it  into  the  great  tide  that  : 

of  the  fireside  is  written  upon   the  altai  - 
thedrals.  in  senate  chambers,  and   in   ; 

:bed  in  invi>ible  characters  upon   the  si'' 
boats  and  railway  trains,  and  oi,  f  the 

brilliant   temples  of   trade.     The  great  outv 
conimercial  storm  and  sunshine,  of  laughter  and  weeping, 
of  honor  and  dishonor,  draws  its  life  fron. 
linked  to  the  hearthstone  by  a  thousand  ties  that  run   far 
under  the  surface  of  society.     The  leaving  of  ho: 
experience  in  one's  life  freighted  with  monn 
quences.     It  is  a  fact  in  botany  that  the  criti  d  in 

the  life  of  a  plant  is  when  it  has  c 

stored  up  in  the  seed  for  its  support,  and  is  ji:  ning 

to  put  forth  its  tender  little  rootlets  into  the  outer  soil,  to 
draw  henceforth  in  ii.  from  the  earth's 

great  storehouse.     So  the  critical  and  danger 
a  child's  life  is  when  he  has  burst  the  environmei/ 


LEA  VING  HOME.  341 

home,  and  steps  out  from  the  little  quiet  circle  to  earn  his 
first  morsel  of  bread  with  his  own  hands,  and  to  negotiate 
independently  with  the  great  crafty  world.  This  is  the 
period  that  tries  the  character  and  tests  its  genuineness. 
If  the  young  man  withstands  the  shock  that  comes  with 
the  first  wild  consciousness  that  he  is  in  a  city,  and  that 
the  currents  and  counter  currents  of  life  are  dashing 
in  bewildering  torrents  at  his  feet,  if  amid  the  surges  and 
the  clinging  spray,  he  stands  firmly  anchored  to  the  rock 
of  home-born  principle,  if  he  does  not  grow  dizzy  and  mad 
with  the  ceaseless  roar  and  rumble,  if  he,  in  safety,  passes 
for  the  first  time  the  brilliant  fronts  of  illuminated  hells, 
and  with  mother's  benediction  on  his  lips,  turns  coldly 
from  the  first  alluring  invitation  of  the  tempter,  he  has 
passed  the  fearful  crisis  of  his  life.  We  would  not,  of 
course,  contend  that  the  only  danger  to  this  young  man 
from  city  influences  comes  with  his  first  actual  entrance 
into  the  city,  that  he  is  never  in  danger  after  he  has  once 
passed  by  a  brilliantly  lighted  den  of  iniquity. 

We  simply  mean  that  if  the  young  man  succeeds  in 
resisting  the  temptations  that  beset  him  during  that  period 
in  which  he  feels  the  elation  of  his  independence,  he  has 
passed  the  most  critical  period.  This  is  the  period  in 
which  the  young  man's  character  is  particularly  suscepti 
ble  to  evil  influences,  and  if  he  succeeds  in  establishing  his 
social  relations  in  the  city  on  the  proper  basis,  and  becomes 
himself  established  as  a  permanent  member  of  society,  he 


iscomp.i:  .:>.      I ' ..  :,•  is  always  a  £ 

which    a 

ry  in  the  rhythi: 
of  tl. 
ami  in  a 

equivalent  of  its  never  ceasing  nm\. 
cum-  :>tible  to  sot : 

Tliose  things  which  aw. .ken  I 
the  r«  the  most  powerful  ii. 

ying  to  veil  thr  rur. 

city  life.     Unfortunately   for  tin 

•..'imintie  in  life  is  often  tl: 

1  wit !i  profligacy  and  vice      1 

;itions  and  brill 
the  glittering  but  d  u;uiee  of   IVe's  life,  and   tlie 

y   of  Byron's  gilded   vice,  have  gone  out    ! 
which  the  veil  of  the  storm  has  hidd 

1 1. -nee  the  evil  influences  of  the  city  which 
strongly  to  the  young  country  lad,  sud-1 

tho.v 

which  sparkle  with  the  gems  of  wit.  and  lull  to  sleep  on 

ing  couches  with  the  drowsy  strains  of  tinkling  i. 
Were  it  not  f--r  that  ::\  human  nature 

that  sees  poetry  in  vice,  the  leaving  0 

such  a  catastrophe  to  the  young  man.      1'  :  ouM  be 

careful  not  to  allow  their  children,  except  it.  cases  of  neces- 


LEAVING  IIOME.  343 

sity,  to  leave  home  until  their  characters  are  so  far  estab- 
lished as  to  be  comparatively  safe  from  the  evil  influences 
that  must  surround  them  elsewhere.  Young  children  are 
never  safe  away  from  home. 

There  is  no  age  in  which  a  person  can  enter  for  the  first 
[hue  into  general  society  away  from  home  with  absolute 
safety,  yet  the  danger  is  particularly  great  to  the  young. 
Tf  a  child  is  of  a  romantic  turn  of  mind  and  enjoys  the 
reading  of  novels,  his  parents  should  be  particularly  solici- 
tous concerning  his  welfare  when  he  goes  for  the  first  time 
into  society. 

Even  a  fondness  for  poetry,  which  would  seem  to  be  the 
purest  and  most  innocent  affection  of  the  mind,  indicates 
the  presence  of  those  characteristics  which  render  one  pe- 
culiarly susceptible  to  the  temptations  of  the  great  city. 
The  wisest  precaution  that  a  parent  can  take  when  his 
child  is  about  to  leave  home,  is  to  arrange  his  social  rela- 
tions in  advance  for  him.  Arrangements  can  almost  al- 
ways be  made  for  his  introduction  into  those  circles  of 
society  where  he  may  find  desirable  amusements,  and  at 
the  same  time  be  surrounded  by  good  and  wholesome  in- 
fluences. 

Probably  the  most  frequent  cause  for  which  children 
leave  home  earlier  than  they  ought,  is  for  the  purpose  of 
attending  school.  The  practice  of  sending  young  children 
away  to  boarding  schools  is,  however,  not  so  common  as 
formerly,  from  the  fact  that  the  common  schools  are  be- 


coming  n 

in  manv  of  t:  's,  while  1   remain 

at  homo  and  un  ;  >M  of  th-  .ts. 

Thi 

•i.'iiM   he 

abandoned    I  re   are  several    • 

tliat  condiine  to  render  child. 
liarlv  liable   to  danger.      In    I 
ally  at  that  age  when  they  would  1».-  i, 
and,    second,  tin-    occupation    at   school   being   < 
wholly  mental,  tl.  :s  left  without  snfiiricnt  cxc 

and,  in  consequence,  the  whole  jihy>ieal  1> 
ancv  which   is  very  dangerous   unle>s  und-'r 
and  oversight  of   jiarents.     Aurain,  the  stringent  rules  of 
conduct  at  most  boarding  schools  always  have  a  : 
to  awaken  the  mischievous  in  iris. 

It    i  which  has  b.-eii  proved  l.y  the  experien 

educational  institution  in  which  such  rules  exist, 
that  the  tendency  to  violation  is  almost  in  direct  ratio  to 
the  stringency  of  the  rules.  Consider,  for  example,  the 
ordinary  hoarding  school  ru!'  ve  to  the  a- 

of  the  sexes.  In  many  eases  the  young  man  might  call 
upon  a  lady  school-mate  with  profit  to  both  parties,  if  there 
were  no  rules  prohibiting  such  an  association,  but  when  a 
young  man  calls  clandestinely  upon  a  young  lady,  the  se- 
cret sense  of  having  violated  rules  whose  authority  they 
are  supposed  to  recognize  often  has  a  disastrous  effect  upon 


LEAVING  HOME.  345 

their  whole  moral  nature.  But  whatever  we  may  believe 
concerning  the  propriety  or  impropriety  of  such  rules,  it 
cannot  alter  the  fact  of  their  existence  in  almost  every  sem- 
inary and  boarding  school.  The  rules  may  be  the  choice 
of  the  smaller  evil.  On  this  subject,  however,  we  have  our 
doubts,  and  yet  we  do  not  deny  that  there  might  be  danger 
without  them. 

Under  the  circumstances  we  think  the  wisest  course  for 
parents  is  to  secure  the  education  of  their  children  where 
they  can  exercise  a  personal  supervision  over  them.  What- 
ever may  be  the  occasion  for  leaving  home,  whatever  may 
have  been  the  character  of  the  home,  there  comes  to 
every  soul  at  that  moment  a  pang  of  regret  which  scorns 
the  finest  ministries  of  language.  Earth  has  no  more  pa- 
thetic scene  than  that  divine  tableau  of  youth's  departure 
from  the  old  home  where  mother  and  child,  beneath  the 
changing  colors  of  joy  and  sorrow,  stand  folded  in  the  final 
embrace  amid  the  silence  of  tears  and  kisses.  That  gush 
of  holy  emotion  serves  a  purpose  in  the  economy  of  our 
nature  ;  it  is  to  bind  the  soul  with  cords  of  everlasting 
remembrances  to  that  firm  anchor  in  the  great  deep  of  life, 
the  home  of  childhood. 

"  I  never  knew  how  well  I  loved 
The  little  cot  where  I  was  horn, 
Until  I  stood  beside  the  gate 
One  pleasant,  early  summer  morn, 
And  listened  to  my  mother's  voice. 
She  spoke  such  words  as  mothers  speak—- 
Of cheer  and  hope— and  all  the  while 


340 


The  tear  drop*  gltetened  on  her  ebe«k. 
Ami  Boon  ftho  turned  and  plucked  a  rot* 
That  grew  bc*ido  UM  ooUag< 

An.!  'nycoat, 

As  »ue  had  often  doue  before. 
I  went  away:  'twas  long  ago, 

:i  my  life  Mml I  close, 

Tin-  •!•  .i:>    :  ir.  .iM.r.    I  .  .m  k:iuw 
\Vill  bo  a  faded  little  rose." 


MEMORIES  OF  HOME. 


EAR  to  us  still  are  the  friendships  we  formed 
at  the  public  schools,  and  hard  was  the 
breaking  of  those  ties,  yet  we  cherish  no 
such  memories  of  our  school-mates  as  we  do 

> 

of  home  and  mother. 

If  we  have  not  already  sundered  the  ties  of 
home,  the  time  will  come  all  too  soon  when 
the  silken  cord  must  be  severed.  This 
thought  should  make  us  eager  to  enjoy  alL 
we  can  the  sweet  dream  of  childhood.  If  we 
are  making  preparations  for  a  new  home 
which  the  poetry  of  youth  has  painted  with 
brilliant  colors,  we  should  not  forget  that  the 
walls  of  that  new  home  must  be  forever  dec- 
orated with  the  picture  of  the  old  one.  You 
may  place  the  wide  expanse  of  ocean  between 
the  two  homes,  but  memory  will  paint  the 
|T|  home  of  your  childhood,  and  whatever  you 

** 

may  say  or  do,  will  persist  in  hanging  the 
picture  on  the  walls  of  your  parlor,  your  chamber,  and 
your  library.  We  may  make  our  new  home  all  that  wealth 


B48 

and  taste  can  ••  may  la 

.:h  and  :.. 

•lie  wall,  i.ang 

,  M   pictiit.-.      ]).,    \\ 
.  ,.T.     If  ;  ••   it   down,  an   invi-ibl«-  :. 

.  and  it 

day  to  see  it.      V«>u  .  still' 

•.ight  than  in  the  light  of  day.      If  the  associa- 
of  that  old  hon;  '>een  unpleasant,  if  then 

that   picture  a  mother,  who,  in  the  little  room  you  us* 
occupy,  sits  your  waywardness,  with   the 

dark  an;  of  sorrow  writ:  lunw,   if 

ith  downcast  l",>k,  a  fatlicr  sitting  by  the 
if  with  his  !  ;ing  upon  his  hands.  irely 

old   because  you  broke  his  heart,  how  will   that  pi 
haunt  your  guilty  soul  in  the  night,  how  will  its  sadness 
enibi'  :y  cup  of  j»y,  and   turn  to  wormwood  •• 

;          urc. 

.unot  ask  that  father's  forgiveness,  it  is  too  late 

You  cannot  go  to  mother,  whose  loving  hand  might,  per- 

.  put  a  veil  over  that  hateful  picture,  or  hang  in  its 

.ore  beautiful  one.     It  is  too  late  for  this,  foi 
1  bring  a  coffin  to  that  old  home,  long,  long  ago,  and 
1  that  coffin  will  be  painted  in  one  corner  of  the 
"he  old  home,  but  tl  here 

;  laved  with  yovr  little  sister  will  be  torn  d 
•  will  be  changed,  everything  will  lo<  I 


MEMORIES  OF  HOME.  349 

perhaps,  the  old  orchard.  But  this  will  revive  no  pleasant 
memories,  nothing  but  the  sad  day  when  you  quarreled 
about  picking  the  apples,  and  struck  your  little  brother, 
tfho  is  now  sleeping  just  back  of  the  house  in  the  garden 
beside  his  mother.  You  can  go  out  there  and  call  his 
name,  but  he  will  not  hear  you.  You  may  strew  with 
flowers  the  grave  of  father,  mother  and  brother ;  you  may 
erect  costly  stones,  but  these  will  not  atone. 

No :  do  not  wait  for  that  sad  day,  but  while  mother  and 
father  are  still  alive,  and  your  little  brother  is  with  you, 
make  home  cheerful.  Keep  mother's  forehead  smooth,  and 
father's  hair  unsilvered  just  as  long  as  you  can. 

If  you  cannot  love  mother  and  make  her  happy,  you 
cannot  truly  love  and  make  happy  the  heart  of  any  woman. 

We  exercise  the  greatest  care  in  selecting  the  real  pic- 
tures with  which  we  adorn  our  homes,  and  if  we  do  not 
afterwards  like  them,  we  can  dispose  of  them  and  forget 
them.  Why  should  we  not,  then,  be  infinitely  more  care- 
ful concerning  the  character  of  that  picture  on  which  we 
shall  be  compelled  to  gaze  through  life? 

Through  the  power  of  memory  the  influences  of  home 
again  become  active  in  our  lives.  The  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  any  particular  portion  of  our  lives  after  we  have 
left  the  old  home,  seldom  produce  lasting  impressions  upon 
our  minds.  We  are  not  likely  to  remember  vividly  our 
experiences  between  the  ages  of  thirty-five  and  fort}r,  at 
least,  not  in  such  a  way  that  the  remembrance  exerts  an 


iuflii-  !'•  li 

our  cli.u..  ;tial    th; 

life.     There 

The  urdinarv   lufl  ^  of  life 

impression  u; 

\\\\\  !  find    a   special    i 

ni.     .Ii; 

in  our  lives  \\ln-n  the  ^..od  and  kindly  influence- 
are  supposed  to  mold  into  consistent  form  the  eh 
meiits  of  our  character,  a  \  rineipie  is  introduced  win 
those  influences  arc  nude  to  lie  >"li  r 

The  iiistrunientaiity  through  will  -   the 

spirii  :y  \vhic'. 

I.     No  i  :"d  of  c»ur  lives  so  lends  itself  to  the 

play  of  our  o\vn  in,  -\a. 

Tin  .  life's  experience  that  so  quickly  and 

lal'y  awakens  in  the  lie.  .'iits  that 

ally  us  "to  angels  and  to  God"  as  the  sa  nories  of 

home.     This  fact  constitutes  a  positive  p., \\.-r  in  our  lives, 
and  growing  out  of  this  fact  is  tL  :'  life,  the 

duly  the  character  of  our  home  such  thai 

ishcd  memories  shall  be  a  developing  and  gladdening  influ- 
ence tlirough  life. 


MEMORIES  OF  HOME.  351 

"  O  memory,  be  sweet  to  me — 
Take,  take  all  else  at  will, 
So  thou  but  leave  me  safe  and  sound; 
Without  a  token  my  heart  to  wound, 
The  little  house  on  the  hill! 

"  Take  all  of  best  from  east  to  west, 
So  thou  but  leave  me  still 
The  chamber,  where  in  the  starry  light 
I  used  to  lie  awake  at  night 
And  list  to  the  whip-poor-will. 

"Take  violet-bed,  and  rose-tree  red, 
And  the  purple  flags  by  the  mill, 
The  meadow  gay,  and  the  garden-ground, 
But  leave,  Oh  leave  me  safe  and  sound 
The  little  house  on  the  hill! 

**  The  daisy-lane,  and  the  dove's  low  plain 
And  the  cuckoo's  tender  bill, 
Take  one  and  all,  but  leave  the  dreams 
That  turned  the  rafters  to  golden  beams, 
In  the  little  house  on  the  hill! 

"  The  gables  brown,  they  have  tumbled  down, 
And  dry  is  the  brook  by  the  mill; 
The  sheets  I  used  with  care  to  keep 
Have  wrapt  my  dead  for  the  last  long  sleeps 
In  the  valley,  low  and  still. 

M  But,  memory,  be  sweet  to  me, 
And  build  the  walls,  at  will, 
Of  the  chamber  where  I  used  to  mark, 
So  softly  rippling  over  the  dark, 
The  song  of  the  whip-poor-will ! 

"  Ah,  memory,  be  sweet  to  me! 
All  other  fountains  chill; 
But  leave  that  song  so  weird  and  wild, 
Dear  as  its  life  to  the  heart  of  the  child, 
In  the  little  house  on  the  hill  I  " 


TRIALS  OF  HOME. 


:     in  another  chapter.    Ul 
the   head  of 

uals,   hut   which   aiv   not   universal.     '1 

who  languish  in  :it  and   more  terrible 

wards  oi  '_'reat  hospital. 

I',  it  l>y  the  trials  of  home  M   those 

-and    little     annoyances    of     lif- 
sphere  of  action  is   i 

In  their  individual  eapacit y  tlu-y  are  in.-i^iiifi- 
'.    and   j>rrlia]i>   unworthy  o!' 

jet  their  aggre]  is  writt. 

dark  and  heavy  lines  on  many  a  mother's  l»n»w.      ] 
the  crosses  from  which  none  esca 
ences  of  every  human  being.     Those  who  scorn 

unworthy  of  notice  do  not  understand  tin  ing. 

If  every  human  desire  v  jiiate  to  its  own  imi: 

:atification,  t  dd  be  no  such  thing 

^ointments.     But  every  want   of  huma: 
rated  from  its  gratification  by  tl..-  length  and  breadth  of  an 
effort,  and  the  greater  the  want,  the  longer  and  broader  the 


TRIALS  OF  HOME.  353 

required  effort.  And  it  often  happens  that  the  effort  is  too 
short  to  span  the  chasm.  There  is  no  system  of  measure- 
ment by  which  we  can  adapt  the  effort  to  the  intervening 
chasm.  Every  effort  of  man  is  an  experiment.  It  is  like 
building  a  light  bridge  on  land,  with  which  to  span  a 
stream,  the  breadth  of  which  we  have  not  measured. 
When  we  come  to  lay  it  across  the  stream  it  may  be  too 
short. 

Trials  and  disappointments  for  the  most  part  owe  their 
origin  to  this  fact,  that  human  effort  is  found  falling  short 
of  its  goal. 

The  path  of  life  runs  so  crooked  that  we  cannot  see 
around  the  curves.  Then  there  are  so  many  junctions  that 
the  time  tables  are  forever  getting  mixed  up. 

Under  these  circumstances  life  can  never  run  smoothly. 
There  will  be  trials  as  long  as  humanity  exists. 

The  mind  desires  ease,  and  only  so  much  exercise  as  is 
prompted  by  its  own  spontaneous  impulse.  When  it  is 
required  to  step  aside  from  the  path  of  its  own  preferences 
there  is  a  spiritual  resistance,  and  a  tendency  to  chafe  and 
fret.  These  little  tendencies  and  influences  are  what  we 
mean  by  the  trials  of  home. 

One  has  said,  "  It  may  not  seem  a  great  thing  to  have  a 
constantly  nagging  companion,  or  boots  that  always  hurt 
your  corns,  or  linen  that  is  never  properly  starched,  or  to 
have  to  read  crossed  letters,  or  go  to  stupid  parties,  or 
consult  books  without  indexes, — but  to  the  sufferer  they 


•  oppres  ,r  short  space  of 

No  trurr  words  were  ever  mte:ed.     Who  has  not  no- 
the  al:  'lute  control  which  an   uneasy  boot 

will  sonietii;  iiiii.d  '.' 

A  sermon  t  .my  sound  almost  divine  to  us  in  a 

pair  of  slippers,  but  y,  in  a  pair  of  now  boots,  we 

should   have   regarded    the   same   sermon   as   intolerably 
stupid. 

A  star  actor,  if  thrown  suddenly  into  tin  <  e  of 

his  lady  love,  in  a  pair  of  overalls,  will  appear  awkward  in 
his  movements. 

How  fretful  we  sometimes  feel  when  we  are  hungry.  A 
bake  ;  >  will  produce  such  :>•  in  us  that  we 

hardly   know   ourselves.     The  toothache   ; 
to  transform  in  half  an  hour  a  saint  into  a  sinner.     How 
quickly  will  music  calm  an  angry  child. 

"  The  trifles  of  our  daily  lives, 
The  common  things  scarce  worth  recall, 
Whereof  no  vi.sihle  trace  survive*, 
These  are  the  mainspring*  after  all. 
Destinv  is  not  without  tln-r,  hut  within, 
Thy  make  thyself." 

All  these  facts  only  show  what  a  powerful  influence  lit- 
tle things  may  have  over  us.  Our  lives  are  made  up  of 
mom-  i  the  character  of  each  moment  <:  ipon 

the  influences  of  that  moment  ;  and  it  requires  but  a 
small  influence  to  change  the  character  of  a  n. 


TRIALS  OF  HOME.  355 

All  growth  is  but  a  perpetual  conquest  over  opposing 
forces.  There  can  be  no  growth,  physical,  intellectual,  or 
spiritual,  except  through  the  resistance  to  that  element  in 
which  it  grows.  It  is  not  necessary,  however,  that  these 
conquests  should  come  as  the  issue  of  great  efforts  or  over- 
whelming sorrows.  The  triumphs  of  life  are  those  which 
we  win  over  self,  and  these  are  won  on  little  battle  fields ; 
in  the  kitchen,  in  the  nursery,  at  the  breakfast  table,  on 
Mondays  at  the  wash-tub,  in  the  stable  with  a  fractious, 
exasperating  horse,  in  the  field  with  the  cattle,  or  amid  the 
little  vexations  and  annoyances  of  every  day ;  as  the 
breachy  sheep,  the  broken  mowing  machine,  or  the  disap- 
pointment of  a  rainy  day. 

It  is  by  trifles  like  these  that  human  souls  are  tested. 

In  overlooking  these  little  trials,  we  overlook  a  very 
important  principle  along  with  them.  It  is  that  principle 
which  distinguishes  the  effects  of  little  sorrows  from  those 
of  great  ones.  Simultaneously  with  the  great  sorrows 
there  is  developed  in  the  soul  a  power  of  heroic  endurance. 
Most  of  us  have  experienced  at  least  one  great  stroke  of 
grief,  one  which  we  had  contemplated  with  such  a  shrink- 
ing that  we  believed  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  stand 
up  beneath  its  weight ;  but  when  the  blow  came  we  were 
surprised  at  our  own  heroic  calmness.  This  experience 
will  always  be  found  to  accompany  a  great  sorrow,  and 
serve  in  part  as  a  compensation.  This  arises  from  the 
sense  of  the  inevitable  which  always  accompanies  a  great 


IM 

stroke.     There  come> 

:   that  ..  .  and 

lendt-nry  ii; 

has  been   found  to  he  groundless 
with  the  relief  a  wish  that  it  might 

seen  the  w.,: 

The    testhn  Du    Chaillu    concerning  hi-  i\  .-lings 

when   IK-  li.i'l   been  stricken   down  by  a  lion 

•cnce  of  this  principle  in  huuuin  nature.     II.-  .  •. ;  resae* 
his  feelings  as  those  of  jKjrfect  satisfaction  air.  Uion 

to  his  fate.     Edgar  A.  Poe,  with  his  almo>t  divine  intuition, 
makes  one  of  the  characters  in  his  M  \><      .  ;r,  :  M.icl- 

strom  "  experience  something  of  this  Mime  feeling. 

Tin  iigs  of  course  are  but  momentary  Hashes  of 

infinity,  but   they  show  that  Clod   has  imjilanted  in  us  an 
instinctive  sa  i  with  the  inevitable,  however  deeply 

it  may  involve  our  own  souls  in  pain  and  sorrow.     V. 
one  refuses  to  be  reconciled  to  a  great  bereavement,  there 

1  in  his  heart  a  secret  feeling  of  rebellion.  It  m 
because  he  possesses  this  instinct  in  a  less  degree  than 
others,  since  all  the  instincts  of  human  nature  vary  in  dif- 
ferent individuals;  but  in  most  cases  it  will  be  found  that 
his  sorrow  is  superficial  and  does  not  take  hold  on  the 
depths  of  his  nature. 

In  the  little  -  of  life  this  principle  is  seldom  mani- 

fested.    This  is  why  small  troubles  weigh  far  more  heavily 
upon  the  heart  in  proj>ortion  to  their  magnitude  than  f.  •• 


TRIALS  OF  HOME.  357 

great  ones.  We  are  of  the  opinion,  however,  that  it  was  the 
divine  plan  that  this  principle  should  manifest  itself  even 
in  the  smallest  sorrows  and  trials  of  life,  but  that  through 
constant  rebellion  the  race  have  come  to  that  condition  in 
which  they  do  not  experience  it  except  in  the  emergency 
of  great  sorrow  or  danger. 

But  however  this  may  be,  the  cultivation  of  that  instinct 
in  us  can  do  no  harm,  and  if  we  can  so  cultivate  and 
develop  it  that  we  shall  feel  a  sense  of  acquiescence  and 
resignation  in  every  little  trial  of  our  lives,  till  the  gnat 
and  the  mosquito  shall  seem  to  us  to  have  rights  equal  to 
our  own,  we  have  surely  won  a  triumph  that  would  become 
an  angel's  crown. 

This,  then,  is  our  advice  to  those  who  are  weighed  down 
with  the  little  trials  of  life :  cultivate  the  instinct  of  resig- 
nation, try  to  feel  satisfied  with  every  fate  that  befalls  you. 
This  is  not  an  impossible  task.  Your  efforts  will  be  re- 
warded. It  will  become  easier  and  easier  for  you  to  at- 
tempt to  do  it,  until  at  last  your  trials  will  become  joys. 
If  you  cannot  feel  that  God  ordained  your  trials,  if  you 
cannot  regard  them  as  a  part  of  the  infinite  plan,  you  must 
certainly  consider  them  as  the  just  penalty  for  your  own 
transgressions.  In  either  case  you  can  reason  yourself  into 
a  feeling  of  satisfaction. 

Little  sorrows,  like  the  great  ones,  are  disciplinary  in 
their  nature,  and  if  the  sufferer  does  not  degenerate  into  a 
fretful  and  irritable  being,  they  will  develop  his  spiritual 


358 

health.     If  1  '  M  in  mind  that  he  sufTe: 

because  his  .-  iflVr- 

ing  but  i;  .arac- 

ter  will  in  the  end  blossom  IWth  a:  1'ruits  all  the 

gweeter  for  the  trials. 

••  \v:..,-'.  •!  •  -<eof  always  fretting 
At  the  trials  we  shall  find 

•r  strewn  along  onr  pathway  f 
Travel  on,  and  never  mind. 

"Travel  onward,  working,  hoping, 
Cast  no  lingering  look  behind 
At  tli- 
Look  ahead,  and  never  mind. 

"  What  is  past,  is  past  forever; 
Let  all  the  fretting  be  resigned; 
1  p  the  matter- 
Do  your  best,  and  never  mind. 

"  And  if  those  who  ml^ht  befriend  you. 
Whom  the  ties  of  nature  bind, 
Should  refuse  t  i  ity, 

Look  to  heaven,  and  never  mind. 

"  Friendly  words  are  often  spoken 

.r*  arr  unkind; 

Take  them  fur  th«  ir  real  value, 
Pass  them  on,  and  never  mind. 

"  Fate  may  threaten,  clonds  may  lower, 
Enemies  may  be  combined ; 

r  tn:>t  in  (Jod  is  steadfast, 
He  will  help  yon,— never  mind." 


SORROW  AND  ITS  MEANING. 
A 


HETHER  sorrow  should  be  regarded  as  pos- 
sessing a  rightful  place  in  the  economy  of 
being,  or  simply  as  an  intruder,  for  whose 
stealthy  entrance  into  the  halls  of  joy  and 
beauty  man  is  wholly  responsible,  is  a  prob- 
lem which  many  regard  as  too  difficult  for 
solution  by  finite  mind,  and  which  it  is 
blasphemy  to  attempt  to  solve. 
Yet  we  cannot  help  asking :  Why  the  mighty  wail  of 
unguish  and  pain  that  goes  up  unceasingly  from  the  lips 
of  Nature  ?  Why  does  the  rose  conceal  a  thorn  ?  Why 
blossoms  the  loveliest  flower  just  where  the  deadly-night- 
shade distills  its  poison  dew  upon  its  snowy  petals  ?  Why 
are  the  heavens  deaf  to  the  cry  of  wounded  innocence  ? 
Why  are  the  fairest  and  the  loveliest  in  the  armies  of  the 
just  and  good  permitted  to  fall  like  withered  roses  before 
the  iron  hail  of  treason's  hosts  ?  Why  has  all  that  is 
good  and  lovely  in  human  history  been  bought  with  blood, 
while  virtue's  victorious  shout  is  preceded  by  the  martyr's 
shriek  ?  Can  an  agency  so  wide-spread  and  vast  in  its 
relations  as  that  of  pain  and  suffering  exist  in  nature,  and 
•implicate  no  higher  instrumentality  than  human  folly? 


It  :  e  all  .suflV:  ,   the 

i'  fftO- 

iiirh  \v.  to  guard  nj/ 

1  suffer!  • 

.<-e  divinely  sano 

•  1,  but,  <  :igin 

!ly  to  the  volun:  'ii  of  man. 

God  lias  given  us  no  faculty  by  which  we  can  pre- 
dict an  earthquake.     II     placed  us  upon  the  earth  I 

.(I  finished  it,  while  yet  his  engines  were  roaring,  and 
his  furnaces  glowing,  while  the  deadly  sparks  were  still 
Hying  from  his  mighty  anvil. 

\%  in  order  that  man  should  be  wholly  responsible  for 
pain  and  suffering,  he  should    have  faculties  sufficiently 
rful  to  grasp  and  analyze  the  divine  plan,  so  that  he 
might    anticipate   and    make    provision    for    all    po- 
movements  in   the  universe.     The   fact  that  man  cannot 
thus  anticipate  the  changes  of  direction  in  the  universal 
:nent,  proves  danger  and  pain  and  sorrow  to  be  di- 
vinely appointed.     The  ant  cannot  anti  ::e  move- 
ment of  the  foot  that  steps  upon  its  little  mound. 

Is  it  not  possible,  after  all,  that  history  with  all  its  crim- 
son blots,  with  all  its  agony  uttered  and  unuttered,  with 
all  of  that  which  we  call  evil,  but  which  to  God  may  be 
but  a  necessary  and  momentary  discord  in  the  tuning  of 
being's  mighty  orchestra, — is  it  not  possible  that  all  this, 
Constitutes  a  mighty  whole,  of  v.  Mime 


SORRO  W  AND  ITS  MEANING.  361 

and  infinite  meaning  we  catch  as  yet  but  a  feeble  hint? 
Does  not  any  other  philosophy  necessarily  assign  to  the 
human  will  the  power  to  intercept  at  any  desired  point 
the  Divine  plan  ?  Is  not  the  highest  and  grandest  philos- 
ophy after  all,  that  which  lays  the  human  will  itself  in  the 
hands  of  God,  the  only  "  Uncaused  Cause,"  and  acknowl- 
edges the  endorsement  upon  the  parchment  of  human  his- 
tory, of  him  who  holds  in  his  volition  the  potentialities  of 
all  history  ? 

Sorrow  and  pain  when  projected  into  the  atmosphere  of 
divine  and  eternal  significance  may  lose  the  superficial 
qualities  that  we  assign  to  them,  and  find  their  places  in 
the  "eternal  fitness  of  things." 

Perhaps,  if  we  could  see  creation  in  its  entirety,  and  know 
the  inter-relations  of  its  myriad  parts,  we  should  rejoice 
over  that  which  now  causes  us  sorrow.  To  us,  the  grand- 
eur of  the  ocean  is  marred  by  the  sight  of  a  wreck,  but  to 
him  who  holds  that  ocean  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  the 
wreck,  the  pale  lips  and  the  despairing  cry  may  be  nec- 
essary to  the  expression  of  a  higher  and  grander  meaning. 
The  toad  sees  evil  and  only  evil  in  the  crushing  wheel  of 
the  fire-engine  as  it  flies  on  its  errand  of  good.  So  we,  in 
our  worm-like  ignorance  and  isolation  can  see  nothing  but 
evil  in  the  engines  of  sorrow  that  pass  over  our  souls,  where 
they  must  pass,  since  our  souls  lie  across  their  path. 

The  universe  is  all  of  one  purpose,  "  so  compact "  that  if 
we  could  know  perfectly  any  nook  or  corner  we  should 


MM, 

know  all,  fur  the  awful  secret  of  the  Absolute  is  concealed 
in  every  finite  en;i;v.     I  :  .ning 

the  rt 

infini  D   why  an 

atom  of  oxygen  prefers  an  atom  of  potassium  to  one  of  gold 

: i. uilil  know  not  only  the  secret  of  love's  ca; 
the  essence  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood. 

"  Flower  In  the  crannied  wall, 
I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies: — 
Hold  yon  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand* 
Little  dower,— but  it  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  Ood  and  man  is." 

Human  knowledge  cannot  reach  the  essence  of  things. 
We  cannot  know  our  dearest  friend  only  a  few  manifesta- 
tions of  him.  The  ulterior  essence  that  makes  all  things  a 
unit,  we  can  never  know.  We  are  like  insects  viewing  the 
motions  of  a  machine.  To  them  each  wheel  moves  inde; 
ently  and  from  its  own  caprice.  So  we  regard  each  move- 
ment in  the  universe  as  separate  and  independent.  The 
and  bars  and  gears  by  which  each  and  every  move- 
ment is  linked  with  every  other,  lie  beyond  the  horizon  of 
our  vision.  If  we  could  but  discern  the  inter-relations  of 
things,  we  might  learn  that  the  grandest  event  in  human 
:  v  is  linked  in  sequential  relation  with  the  flutter  of 
an  insect'  and  that  the  annihilation  of  an  atom  and 

:    would  bo  equal  catastrophes.     Perchance  we  might 
see,  in  the  ineffable  light  of  that   awful  vision,  how  po 


SORRO  W  AND  ITS  MEANING,  363 

tential  joys  unspeakable  have  been  born  in  darkened  chain 
bers;  how  every  wreathed  casket  bears  a  universal  imn 
istry,  and  that, 

"  The  brightest  rainbows  ever  play 
Above  the  fountains  of  our  tears." 

But  sorrow  has  a  more  obvious  ministry  than  that  which 
is  discerned  only  by  such  generalization.  If,  then,  sorrow 
is  a  natural  agency ;  that  is,  if  we  have  been  made  capable 
of  sorrow,  and  then  placed  in  a  world  of  danger  and  disas- 
ter where  the  causes  of  sorrow  cannot  be  anticipated, 
surely  this  sorrow  and  affliction  must  have  an  individual 
ministry  commensurate  with  its  cost,  or  the  wisdom  of  Him 
who  ordained  it  is  implicated.  We  may  rest  assured  that 
sorrow  serves  some  purpose  in  the  economy  of  being,  as 
definite  as  that  of  magnetism  and  light.  We  cannot  reach 
the  secret  of  its  deepest  meaning,  and  yet  there  seems 
to  be  within  us  a  spiritual  instinct  that  seeks  to  justify  its 
existence  and  to  find  in  it  a  ministry. 

"  The  gods  in  bounty  work  up  storms  about  ns, 
That  give  mankind  occasion  to  exert 
Their  hidden  strength,  and  throw  out  into  practice 
Virtues  that  shun  the  day,  and  lie  concealed 
In  the  smooth  seasons  and  calms  of  life." 

Pain  and  sorrow  are  wasting  processes  of  the  soul,  just 
*s  labor  is  a  wasting  process  of  the  muscles.  But  who 
does  not  know  that  this  very  waste  is  the  only  condition 
under  which  a  muscle  can  grow  strong  ?  If  you  wish  to 
strengthen  any  muscle,  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  weary 


that  :  v  labor.      A   iin: 

-s  of  r< 

a  universal   '  .itiire  t  t  a  littlo 

than  re: 

:lic  spirit.     It  i*  inci- 

te of  t'  the  effects  of  i 

inent,  and  sustains  to  it  y   tlie  same   :  that 

(  al   labor  sustains  to  the  muscle.     !  lult  soul 

that  has  known  a  pang  of  sorrow  has  long  since 

•\v. 

It  is  true  that  the  soul  does  not  require  pain  with  that 
degree  of  regularity  with  which  tin-  niu.-r],-s  mpiire  ' 
but  it  is  simply  because,  through  memory  and  re-Ik" 
the  influence  is  distributed.     A  single  great  stroke  of 
row  will  oft.  •  ,  subdue,  and  ripen  a  whole  life. 

since  it  is  lived  over  and  over  again  in  the  silent  solitude 
of  thought,  it  becomes  life-long  in  its  ministry.  Who  has 
not  read  this  sacred  ministry  of  sorrow  on  those  brows  of 
saintly  triumph, — the  thrones  of  peace? 

W«-  have  not  yet,  it  is  true,  caught  the  divine  secret  of 

justice  is  maintained  in  the  unequal  distributi- 
human  suffering. 

\Vc  must,  at  once,  and  forever,  abandon  the  idea  that  it 
can  be  found  along  the  narrow  line  of  individual  merit. 
The  world  has  sought  it  there  long  and  diligently, 
found  it  not. 

One  student  is  compelled  by  his  instructors  to  practice 


SORRO  W  AND  ITS  MEANING.  365 

more  hours  a  day  in  a  gymnasium  than  another.  The 
practice  is  irksome,  and  the  other  is  allowed  to  sit  with 
folded  arms  in  smiling  complacency,  while  his  companion 
toils  at  the  rope  and  bar.  To  this  young  toiler  there 
could  be  nothing  more  unjust,  for,  like  most  students,  he 
does  not  look  forward  to  the  effects  of  the  discipline  to 
which  he  is  subjected.  And  yet  in  the  future  years  his 
proud  physique  and  glow  of  health  beside  his  friend's 
puny  form  and  pale  cheek,  may  prove  that  the  injustice 
was  on  the  other  side.  There  may  not,  however,  be  in- 
justice in  either  case. 

Perhaps  the  gymnasium  is  not  the  treatment  best 
adapted  to  the  weak  student.  Perhaps  his  constitution  is 
such  that  he  is  incapable  of  developing  a  strong  physique, 
and,  perhaps,  he  could  more  surely  reach  the  height  of  his 
physical  capacity  through  the  ministry  of  some  gentler  ex- 
ercise. It  is  wisest  to  allow  the  physician  under  whose 
superintendence  he  is  placed  to  decide  these  questions. 
Perhaps,  again,  these  physicians  may  see  in  the  stronger 
student  the  germs  of  a  possible  ministry,  whose  fruition 
will  require  the  fullest  development  of  all  his  physical 
powers.  It  may  be  that  the  forces  of  creation  have  con- 
spired to  make  him  by  nature  a  performer  of  great  physical 
deeds,  a  builder  of  bridges,  and  a  leveler  of  mountains. 
One,  at  sight  of  whose  mighty  achievements,  his  fellows 
will  bow  in  the  willing  acknowledgment  of  conscious  in- 
feriority. All  these  conditions  and  qualifications  may 


that  the  purpose  which   : 

the   econonn  -ig  has  a  •  this 

'cm  of  ji: 
'.  • 
problem  of  In 

.in,  under  the  su;  M  who  n< 

the  architect  of  i  i:n,  but  wh"  •!   its 

appliance  to  the  requirements  of  our  spiritual 
le   to   our  -gress,  • 

temptation,  every  pang  of  sorrov 
bar  in  tl.  •   gymnarimn,  and  we  in  oar  infii 

•  ledge  and   \  e   can  weigh  only  the  j 

injustice  of  apparent   discrimination.     We  murmur  . 
bend  ben  of  grief,  and  bitterly  complain  as 

we  are  made  to  revolve   in  agonizing   contor  : 

the  cross-bar  of  adversity.     V.-t    could  our  ( 
pered  to  the  light  of  an  universal   sun,  and  v. 
to  pierce  the  starry  vi-tus  of  infinite  meaning,  v>i;l. 
glance  through  the  lens  of  infinite  intellige 
the  burning  focn  it  lens  how  would  the 

burn  from  off  the  shining  disk  of  this  g:  >lem, 

Justice. 


SORROW  AND  ITS  MEANING.  3G7 

Perhaps  the  divinest  ministry  of  bereavement  and  sorrow 
is  seen  in  the  lofty  moods  that  grow  out  of  it,  and  that  lift 
the  soul  above  the  reach  of  its  own  discipline ;  till  it  can 
stand  with  face  wreathed  in  the  smile  of  peace,  subdued 
and  tender  and  god-like,  while  with  never  a  sigh  it  beholds 
the  waves  of  desolation  sweep  over  its  fondest  hopes.  Thou- 
sands of  souls  have  been  educated  in  sorrow's  school  till 
they  were  able  to  do  this.  Almost  every  one  has  experi- 
enced certain  exalted  moods  in  which  he  has  felt  himself 
above  and  beyond  the  reach  of  all  outward  conditions;  and 
clinging  to  the  one  fact  of  his  existence  and  its  inward  re- 
lations, he  has  felt  that  he  could  smile  at  every  possible 
catastrophe.  It  is  sorrow  alone  that  gives  us  the  capacity 
for  this  the  divinest  of  moods.  How  weak  and  useless  are 
those  "  pulpy  souls  "  that  never  have  known  affliction !  Such 
are  the  ones  that  cover  their  faces  and  flee  from  the  scene 
of  suffering.  They  are  the  feeble  characters  that  tremble 
and  fall  when  shaken  by  great  emergencies.  But  who  are 
they  that  stand  calmly  and  firmly  against  the  fiercest  charge 
of  calumny.  It  is  they  who  know  the  meaning  of  midnight 
watching  and  buried  hope.  It  is  they  who  have  put  the 
cup  of  sorrow  to  their  lips  and  held  it  there  till  they  have 
drained  the  bitter  dregs. 

"  The  grape  must  be  crushed  before 

Can  be  gathered  the  glorious  wine; 
So  the  poet's  heart  must  be  wrung  to  the  cor« 
Ere  his  song  can  be  divine." 

We  cannot  doubt  that  every  pang,  every  disappointment, 


3C8 

blinding  stroke  of  ;/  Mcst* 

ing  that  in  * 

which   v. 

mini  .    not 

al\\ay>  l>r  immedhtr  and  UM 

be  to  our  own  .M-llish  selves,  but  somewhere  in  etern/ 
the  sum  of  all  being.     It  would  be  impious  to  attempt  to 
trace  its  divinely  appointed  course.     It  may  require  eternity 
to  solve  the  problem  of  a  blighted  hope.     We  are  silent 
when  they  ask  us  to  point  out  the  hidden  blessing  in 

1  scourge;  or  when  the  scorpion  lash  of  pestilence 
smites  the  back  of  dying  Memphis;  or  when  the  brilliant 
foot-lights  with  fiery  fingers  have  caressed  the  oily  scenery 
and  the  public  hall  becomes  a  tomb  for  charred  and  un- 
known corpses.  We  are  staggered  by  the  awful  mystery 
when  the  light-hearted  girl  steps  from  out  the  merry  throng, 
and  reappears  in  sable  drapery  with  a  story  on  her  brow.  It 
requires  a  quick  ear  to  catch  the  secret  from  the  frozen  lips 
of  death,  when  the  fair  youth  who  but  yesterday  plucked 
the  wild  roses  to  twine  in  golden  hair,  comes  to-day  to 
those  same  woodland  haunts  to  gather  roses  for  love's 
speechless  tribute,  that  he  may  lay  them  on  the  pulseless 
bosom  of  the  maiden  he  adores. 

But  notwithstanding  all  this,  we  cannot  resist  the  con- 
viction, which  comes  to  us  with  the  force  of  an  instinct, 
that  sorrow  is  a  natural  phenomenon  and  bears  the  en- 
dorsement of  the  Divine  hand.  I Io\v  else  can  we  explain 


SORRO  W  AND  ITS  MEANING.  369 

the  philosophy  of  that  instinctive  acquiescence  in  the 
inevitable,  of  which  we  have  spoken  in  the  preceding 
chapter  ?  Why,  when  the  shadow  of  the  angel's  wing  falls 
on  the  face  of  one  we  love,  do  we  almost  instinctively  turn 
to  the  physician  to  learn  if  no  power  could  have  saved? 
and  why  that  sigh  of  relief  when  he  assures  us  that  the 
result  could  not  have  been  otherwise.  The  inevitableness 
of  a  friend's  death  will  partially  reconcile  us  to  our  be- 
reavement. When  one  knows  that  he  must  die,  he  is  usually 
calm  and  resigned,  but  he  is  wild  while  there  is  hope.  Why 
is  this?  Why  does  utter  despair  always  gives  birth  to 
calmness  and  resignation  ?  Is  it  not  a  hint  from  the  infalli- 
ble book  of  human  instinct,  that  whatever  may  be  true  of 
moral  accountability  and  free  agency,  it  is  not  inconsistent 
with  a  higher  and  grander  truth  that,  in  the  infinite  alti- 
tude of  divine  meaning,  "Whatever  is,  is  right?"  We 
cannot  see  the  purpose  that  is  subserved  in  the  universal 
economy  by  the  poisonous  plant,  by  thorn  and  sting,  and 
deadly  fang,  yet  the  highest  philosophy  assigns  to  them  a 
consistent  meaning,  even  while  it  acknowledges  that  mean- 
ing to  be  above  and  beyond  the  proudest  effort  of  human 
analysis.  I  cannot  say  that  I  ought  not  to  suffer,  till  I  am 
able  to  analyze  every  relation  of  my  being.  This  I  can 
never  do.  I  cannot  find  in  the  great  machine  a  single 
gearing  by  which  one  wheel  is  connected  with  another. 

"  Yet  I  doubt  not  through  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  process  of  the  suns." 
24 


870 

Is  it  not  possible,  mi}  same  great 

which  '  the  dea<l 

shad,  .ttal  gland,  also  . 

.ce   with  that  which  slays  the  objects  of  our 
fondest  love  ? 

The  mother  who  bends  over  a  little  casket  to  leave  her 
triune  gift  of  rosee,  t«  iever 

will  lisp  her  name,  mav 

higher  revelation,  that  though  the  rose- wreathed  casket 
bears  the  ashes  of  her  cherished  hopes,  it  is  also  ministrant 
to  a  need  she  knows  not  of. 

"  Who  knows  of  this  inward  life  of  oars  ? 

Of  the  pangs  with  which  each  joy  is  born  f 
Who  dreams  of  poison  among  the  (lowers, 
Or  sees  the  wound  from  the  hidden  thorn, 
O'er  which  we  smile  when  most  forlorn  ? 

"  Who  knows  that  the  change  from  grave  to  gay 

Was  wrought  by  the  deadly  pain  we  bore, 
As  we  lay  the  hopes  of  year*  a . 
Like  withered  roses,  to  bloom  no  more 
Upon  life's  desolated  shore  ? 

' '  Who  knows,  as  we  tread  these  careless  ways, 

That  wo  think  of  oar  sainted  dead  the  while, 
That  the  heart  grows  sick,  in  summer  days, 
For  a  blessed  mother's  tender  smile, 
That  held  no  taint  of  worldly  guile  ? 

"  Who  knows  of  the  tremulous  chords  of  lore, 

To  the  lightest  touch  thnt  vibrate  still, 
As  under  her  wing  the  stricken  dove, 
Unmurmuring  folds— although  it  kill— 
The  cruel  mark  of  the  archer's  skill  f  " 


TUB  WIDOWS   HOME. 


THE  WIDOW'S  HOME. 


WORK  treating  of  home  and  the  various 
phases  of  the  home-life,  could  not  be  con- 
sidered complete,  were  no  chapter  de- 
voted to  the  widow's  home.  For  the 
widow's  home  finds  its  justification  in  the 
normal  and  primitive  constitution  of 
things,  as  proved  by  the  undisputed  facts 
that  marriage  is  an  institution  of  nature, 
and  that  no  organic  law  demands  the 
simultaneous  dissolution  of  husband  and 
wife.  Indeed,  such  a  coincidence  is  of  re- 
markably rare  occurrence. 

Widowhood,  then,  is  an  ordinance  of 
nature,  and  perhaps  the  strongest  evi- 
dence that  sorrow  holds  a  rightful  place 
in  the  universal  economy  is  to  be  found 
in  this  fact. 

If,  then,  widowhood  is  inevitable,  it 
seems  right  that  provision  should  be 
made  for  its  possible  occurrence,  at  least,  in  so  far  as 
occasional  and  wholesome  contemplation  can  so  dispose 


our    minds    that    tin-   il.irk    ;i  'is   or 

by  absolute    surpri-".      \V.-    <i 
that   hu.-'  :.illy   d 

• 

would  be  entirely   unnatural.     I  -o  surely 

indieates  a  i:.  ndition  of  the   who'-- 

stant   tendency  t<i  dwell   upon   t!. 

s  or  our  friends.     It  in  ,tc  of 

the  nerves  to  lie  unable  to  sleep  in  »  of  a  con- 

stant dread  of  fire.      And  yet  it  i>  «.f  all  to 

make  due  pi>  -uch  a  catastroj  :. 

escapes.     So  while  we  should  not  allow  ourselves  to  1 
constant  dread  of  bereavement,  we  should  in  on: 
and  meditation   frequently  acknowledge  to    «  -  the 

possibility  of  such  an  event,  with  rt  to  realize 

•which  we  acknowledge.     In  this  -our- 

selves  for  almo.-:  :!ii-tion,   so  that  when  the  alarm 

comes  we  may  not  be  suffocated  and   bewild.  i,  d    in  the 
blinding  smoke  of  our  own  grief. 

But  the  liabilities  to  widowhood  impose  the  duty 
more  substantial  provision.   This  afllietion  .ivily 

upon  her  who  has  leaned  with  the  mostchildlik 
upon  the  support  of  her  husband.     It  is,  pe;  'ural 

for  woman  to  look  to  her  husband  for  support  and   p: 
tion,but  that  complete  surrender  of  her  individual: 
makes  her  a  mere  household  j 
only  as  unnatural,  but  as  a  sin  again.-'  and  so 


THE  WIDOW'S  HOME.  373 

Those  who  wear  the  badge  of  widowhood  with  the  most 
heroic  fortitude  are  those  who,  in  the  stern  battle  of  life, 
have  stood  abreast  with  their  husbands,  who  have  never 
shirked  the  awful  responsibility  of  womanhood,  wifehood, 
and  motherhood.  When  the  fearful  summons  came  that 
left  them  to  fight  alone,  it  found  them  with  weapon  in 
hand.  And  it  was  then  that  the  glory  and  majesty  of  their 
womanhood  shone  through  a  veil  of  tears  with  a  beauty 
that  was  divine.  It  is  not  the  bereavement  alone  that 
lends  sadness  to  the  thoughts  of  widowhood,  but  it  is  the 
fact  of  added  responsibility.  There  are  often  young  chil- 
dren dependent  upon  their  sorrowing  mother,  and  no  mat- 
ter how  nobly  that  mother  may  have  performed  her  part 
in  the  conflict  of  life,  in  the  present  conditions  of  society 
there  are  few  in  whose  homes  would  not  be  felt  the  sudden 
interruption  and  suspension  of  the  husband's  business, 
though  it  were  preceded  by  years  of  industry  and  economy. 

It  requires  something  of  a  fortune,  at  least  more  than 
most  men  possess,  in  order  that  the  interest  alone  may  be 
sufficient  to  maintain  the  home,  and  to  feed,  clothe  and 
educate  a  family  of  children  ;  so  that  some  form  of  re- 
munerative labor  often  becomes  necessary  even  for  the 
mother.  And  this  adds  to  the  sadness  of  the  scene,  for  if 
there  is  a  scene  on  earth  that  is  sad,  it  is  that  of  grief 
struggling  in  the  toils  of  want. 

But  we  would  not  be  understood  to  mean  that  the 
widow's  home  is  always  and  necessarily  the  scene  of  want, 


OUR  U( 

-..it  always,  by  any  means,  that  there  is  n 
young  child!  r's  efforts  for  the 

Mipi-ly  of  all  tli-  laps,  as  • 

that  the  children  arc  able  to  support  : 

mother.     Nor  is  the  widow's  home  e  :   un- 

mitigated sorrow.     We  <  true,  f: 

nature  of  the   case,  eliminate   Borrow   from    the   wi  ' 
honii  .  <»d  has  so  constituted  the  human  hear', 

even  amid  the  darkest  scenes  of  sorrow  and  affliction  there 
come   to  it  hours  of  mirth  .     And,  perhaps,  the 

widow's  home,  where  the  necessary  conditions  of  love  and 
confidence  exist,  is  not  less  potent  in  its  formative  inl'u- 

-  upon  character,  than  tho>c  homes  where  sorrov. 
never  come.  There  is  something  beautiful  as  well  ;. 
thetic  in  the  family  scene  where  1  l.ildren  recoj 

mother  as  the  head.     The  sons  and  daughters  who  come 
from  families  of  this  kind  are  usually  noble  and  generous. 
They  have  learned  to  be  unselfish  not  only  from  the  1. 
discipline  of  their  own  lot,  but  from  the  .rnple 

of  a  mother's  denial  and  self-sacrifice,  qualities  whit:. 
long  emphatically  to  the  widowed  mo: 

The  angelic  qualities  of  a  mother's  love  never  fully  re- 
veal themselves  till  the  wand  of  sorrow  touches  her  heart 
and  writes  a  story  on  her  brow. 

"Arise  ami  all  thy  tasks  fulfill, 

And  as  thy  day  tliy  •.trfnirth  shall  b«; 
Were  there  no  power  beyond  the  ill, 
The  ill  coulil  not  have  come  to  thee. 


THE  WIDO  W'S  HOME. 


375 


"  Though  cloud  and  storm  encompass  thee 

Be  not  afflicted  nor  afraid; 
Thou  knowest  the  shadow  could  not  be 
Were  there  no  sun  beyond  the  shade. 

''For  thy  beloved,  dead  and  gone, 

Let  sweet,  not  bitter,  tears  be  shed; 
Nor  '  open  thy  dark  saying  on 
The  harp,'  as  though  thy  faith  were  dead.' 


HOMELESS  ORPHANS. 


TRF.ATISK  upon  the  home  life  would  1 

complete  withoi;1 . 

the   homeless.      We   cannot  exha 

:<:t   without  also  ;   ita 

•  ive. 

The  word  orphan  is  one  of  th<  •    in 

human  L  I  a    word    at   sound  of 

which  tl.  '.      It    1.; 

to  our    niiiuls  a  lone  wand.  : 
object  on  earth  to  c,  mile.      Wh.-n  the 

child  that  has  a  happy  home  and   loving   ; 
himself  deprived    of  them,    he   expei 

._,'  that  may  lit-  likened  to  that  of  suffocation.  It  is 
probable,  however,  that  the  actual  suffering  of  the  home- 
less is  far  less  than  one  would  naturally  suppose,  for  that 
prineiple  in  us  which  tends  to  makes  us  satisfied  with  the 
inevitable  doubtless  as.-'  '. There. 

When  we  look  upon  the  cripple  who  is  obliged  to  sub- 
stitute a  wooden  crutch  for  a  leg,  our  hearts  are  moved  to 
feel  that  in  some  way  we  owe  him  something. 
We  cannot  feel  at  ease  when  we  look  upon  him,  while  we 


THE  FRIENDLESS  ORPHAN. 


HOMELESS  ORPHANS.  377 

ourselves  enjoy  the  free  use  of  our  limbs.  But  the  cripple 
himself  has  no  such  feelings.  He  feels  that  the  wooden 
crutch  is  his  other  leg,  and  he  in  turn  pities  his  unfor- 
tunate neighbor  who  has  lost  both  limbs.  And  so  it  is 
with  life.  He  who  dwells  in  a  palace  pities  him  who 
dwells  in  a  cottage,  and  he  in  turn  pities  him  who  dwells 
in  a  hovel.  In  the  working  of  this  principle  may  be  dis- 
cerned that  law  of  compensation  which  underlies  all  hu- 
man affairs. 

But  this  fact  does  not  justify  selfishness  nor  allow  us  to 
neglect  the  rights  of  the  unfortunate.  For  in  spite  of  all 
compensatory  tendencies  the  world  is  full  of  suffering.  The 
air  is  rent  at  noonday  and  at  midnight  with  the  wails  of 
sorrow  and  the  shrieks  of  agony.  What  if  every  wave  of 
sound  around  the  earth  could  reach  our  ears  !  Think  how 
the  stifled  sob  of  sudden  sorrow  would  blend  with  the  mu- 
sic where  beauty  moves  to  the  pulses  of  the  viol,  and  where 
in  the  great  orchestral  movement  of  human  life  could  be 
found  a  place  for  the  weird,  discordant  note  of  orphaned 
anguish.  How  the  thunderous  discords  of  that  mighty  or- 
chestra are  reduced  to  harmony  by  the  dullness  of  our  ears ! 

Pity  is  an  element  of  human  nature  that,  in  many  re- 
spects must  be  considered  as  distinct  from  the  disposition 
to  help.  It  is  true  that  they  both  originate  in  the  primi- 
tive faculty  of  benevolence,  but  this  faculty  seems  to  have 
these  two  closely  related  functions.  The  feverish  and  ex- 
travagant desire  for  wealth  that  the  indolent  pauper  expe- 


378 

ites  in  the  Same  faculty  as  tin-  thrift 

:  s  man,  a 
. 

is  doubtless  sel fish.     It  is  the  pain  thut  we  <  -eon 

witnessing  pain  in  others.     Of  course  its  chief  U-: 
in  the  di;  f  help,  just  as  any  pain  leads  us  to  re: 

iiiM-.     But  in  the  case  of  pity,  t  s  uot 

always  produce  this  result.     Indeed,  it  often  produces  an 
opposite  result,  as  when  a  lady  through  excess  of  pit  v 
from  the  scene  of  suffering.     After  the  close  of  a  certain 
battle,  Florence  Nightingale  was  called   upon  to  wi- 
the most  terrible  suffering  in  tl, 

her  tend  'rations  to  the  ll  d  the  dying. 

She  had  under  her  charge  several  young  ladies  as  assist- 
•hey  approached    the  couch  of  one   mortally 
wounded,  torn  and   mangled   and  writhing   in    the  awful 
throes  of   the   death   ag<  oung  ladies  covered 

their  faces  and    fled    fn»m    the  place.     The  noble  w 
with  a  majesty  almost  divine,  with  no  agitation,  no  weak- 
ening tears  of  pity,  turned  and   :  them,  and  com- 
manded them  to  return.     Wli  >  of  those  ladies,  think  you, 
possessed  most  of  that  god-like  love  that  dares  to  d< 
die  for  others?     This  act  on  the  part  of  ; 
however,  was  not  a  selfish  one  in  the  popular  sense  of  the 
word.     They  desired  to  aid  the  sufferers,  they  were  there 
for  that  purpose.     They  were   noble  and  g  .  but 
they  could  not  match  the  great  soul  of  Florence  Nightin- 


HOMELESS  ORPHANS.  379 

gale,  and  in  their  comparative  weakness  they  gave  way  to 
pity.  Neither  was  Florence  Nightingale  destitute  of  the 
power  to  pity ;  she  was  capable  of  deeper  pity  and  more 
copious  tears  of  sympathy  than  her  assistants,  but  she 
crushed  down  her  selfish  pity,  in  order  to  give  free  scope 
to  the  grander  sentiment  of  help.  She  knew  that  pity's 
tears  could  not  heal  those  awful,  gaping  wounds,  and  that 
the  hour  demanded  a  higher  ministration  than  tender  words 
of  sympathy. 

But  not  alone  in  such  an  hour  does  the  grandeur  of  hu- 
man love  display  itself.  The  principle  of  benevolence  is 
represented  by  two  classes,  the  pitiers  and  the  helpers. 
The  .pitiers  are  represented  by  the  sentimentalists,  who 
speak  in  touching  generalities  about  the  sufferings  of  hu- 
manity ;  the  helpers,  by  the  asylums  and  homes,  the  public 
and  private  charities  of  the  land.  One  class  is  represented 
by  words  and  tears,  the  other  by  the  wordless  energy  that 
feeds,  clothes  and  protects.  One  orphans'  asylum  is  worth 
more  than  all  the  tears  of  pity  ever  shed.  The  grandest 
ministration  is  that  which  gives  with  a  heart  too  noble  to 
express  its  own  pain.  The  divinest  love  is  that  which 
builds  its  own  monument,  of  brick  and  mortar,  with  dry 
eyes  and  lion  heart. 

But  how  shall  the  homeless  orphan  profit  by  what  we 
have  said  on  the  subject  of  home  and  its  advantages? 
Surely,  if  he  have  no  home,  there  can  be  no  relations 
between  himself  and  *iiat  institution  except  negative 


.     The   fir««t  tiling  to  d<  •<>  seek  some 

\\here  i  ace  he  should 

call  ! 

home  tlian  t!  >rds  him  a  s. 

eat  his  crust,  and  a   j  M  from    ; 

night.     lie  should  i  >s  he 

can  change  them  for  the  1  !e  should  1 

far  as  circumstances  will   permit.     PC: 
poor  reader  into  this  book  may  <  to  fall 

not  understand  the  force  of  thi  .     I'.ut 

he  subjects  it  to  the  light  even  of  that  rude  philosop: 
life  which  In 

will  appear  plain  i"  him.      IT    -'."iild  call  the  pi;: 
he  eats  and  sleeps  home,  in  order  that  1. 
lose  that  sacred  word  from  its  vocabulary.     He  shoulii 
si>t  in  eating  his  :  .d  spending  his  nigh- 

place,  in  order  that  he  may  not  lose  that   divinely  born 
home  instinct  in  which  the  institution  of  home  has  • 

:.     If  you  are  a  bootblack  upon  the  street,  with  no 
ts  and  no  home  that  yo;  !  your  own,  you  : 

surely  have  some  place  in  wl.'  \>  at  night.     This 

you  can  call  home,  and  it  will  soon  come  to  be  in  s< 
a  home  to  you.    And  if,  by  blacking  boots,  you  can  earn  a 
living,  you  can  without  doubt  earn  a  little  besides,  and  with 

I  and  dimes,  that   nobody  supposes 
possess,  you  can  buy  good  clothes,  and  thus  appe. 
ter  advantage  on  the  street  and  in  that  in  which 


HOMELESS  ORPHANS.  381 

you  move.  In  this  world  of  unjust  discriminations,  fine 
vestments  are  often  mistaken  for  hearts,  while  real  hearts 
wrapt  up  in  rags  are  often  carelessly  thrown  away.  So  if 
you  have  a  good  heart  it  is  well  to  wrap  it  in  as  fine  a 
piece  of  cloth  as  you  can  afford. 

There  are  few  orphan  boys  or  girls  who  cannot  obtain 
good  situations,  either  in  the  city  or  in  the  country,  where 
they  may  be  clothed  and  fed,  and  be  allowed  to  attend 
school,  and  to  pay  for  such  guardianship  with  moderate 
labor,  in  the  same  condition  as  the  children  of  the  house- 
hold. 

It  is  no  disgrace  to  be  sent  to  an  "  orphans'  home."  Of 
course  such  a  home  cannot  be  a  perfect  home,  for  it  lacks 
the  elements  of  "  the  fireside  "  and  parental  love.  But  it 
has  enough  of  the  essential  elements  to  entitle  it  to  the 
name  of  home.  If  the  semi-public  life  which  is  inevitable 
is  displeasing  to  the  unfortunate  one,  let  him  remember 
that  in  all  institutions  of  the  kind  the  merits  and  demerits 
of  the  inmates  are  considered,  and  those  who  have  proved 
themselves  most  worthy  are  the  first  who  are  permitted  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  situations  in  private  families  that 
are  constantly  presenting  themselves.  Officers  are  em- 
ployed expressly  to  search  out  such  situations.  And  an 
orphans'  home  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  temporary  ac- 
commodation where  orphans  are  provided  for  until  their 
applications  for  situations  are  successful.  We  believe  that 
the  active,  benevolent  element  of  society,  if  properly  re- 


382  OUL 

minded  of  its  du I  ,il>s<*rbing  the  eutire  el*- 

uucd  ones. 

.o  lamp-po  :  1  trade  In  rain: 

Men  are  too  busy  to  stop  to-nu 

Hurrying  home  through  the  hlect  and  rain. 
Never  since  dark  a  paper  told; 

Where  shall  he  sleep,  or  bow  be  fed? 
He  thinks,  as  be  shiren  there  in 

While  happy  children  are  safe  abed. 

"  Is  it  strange  if  be  turns  about 

.1  angry  words,  then  comes  to  blows. 

Toning  his  pennies,  past  him  goes  ? 
'  Stop!  '—some  one  looks  at  him,  sweet  and  mild, 
And  the  voice  that  speaks  is  a  tender 

•  strike  such  :i  little.: 
And  you  should  not  use  such  words,  my  son! ' 

"  Is  it  his  anger  or  his  fears 

That  have  hushed  his  voice  and  stopped  his  arm? 
'Don't  tremble,'  these  are  the  words  he  hears; 

4  Do  you  think  that  I  would  do  you  barm  ?  ' 
'It  isn't  that,' an. 1  ::  <} is  down; 

uMn't  care  for  kicks  and  blows; 
But  nobody  ever  railed  me  son, 
Because  I'm  nobody's  child,  I  s'pose.' 

"  O  men!  as  ye  careless  pass  along, 

Remember  the  love  that  has  cared  for  yon; 

And  bln-h  for  the  awful  shame  and  wrong 
Of  a  world  where  such  a  thins  <v»uld  be  true? 

Think  what  the  child  at  your  knee  had  been 
If  thus  on  life's  lonely  billows  tossed; 

And  who  shall  bear  the  weight  of  the  sin, 
If  one  of  these  '  little  ones '  be  lost!  " 


HOMES  OF  THE  POOR. 


ISTORY  records  no  great  reforms,  no  rare 
efforts  of  philanthropy  and  love,  whose  actors 
have  not  felt  the  restraint  of  at  least  moderate 
want.  Out  from  the  ten  thousand  unpainted 
cottages  that  dot  the  land  have  stalked  forth 
the  great  thoughts  and  the  mighty  deeds. 

Luxury  is  the  concave  lens  which  disperses 
the  rays  of  human  energy,  while  poverty  is 
the  convex  lens  which  causes  them  to  converge,  often 
bringing  them  to  a  powerful  focus,  and  like  the  mirrors  of 
Archimedes  burning  the  fleets  of  the  enemy. 

Let  no  young  man  despair  because  he  is  poor.  As  well 
might  the  engine  despair  because  the  iron  bands  confine 
the  restless  energy  of  the  steam.  The  engineer  computes 
the  resistance  to  physical  force  in  what  he  terms  foot- 
pounds. So  poverty  is  a  term  that  simply  designates  the 
resistance  to  the  divine  energies  of  a  human  soul.  There 
are  two  indispensable  conditions  to  the  development  of 
power  in  the  engine ;  first  the  application  of  heat,  and 
second  the  outward  resistance  to  confine  the  force  gener- 
ated. So  in  the  soul  these  same  two  conditions  must  exist ; 


cumstanrrs    :  tlmi 

Tlie  gi 

ing  t:  -ling 

for  !••  :i<l  wliich,   i! 

U  asund 

II  -v  impotent  i-  it  terrific  beat  if  the 

it  gei  Just  so  with 

tin.-  most  gigantic  volition  and  the  grandest  p: 
are  not  hedged  about  by  some  awful 

no  fett. 

portionate  to  their  ov,  will  be 

harmlessly  as  tlie  vapor  which  rises  ftl  are  from  the 

open  boiler. 

By  poverty  we  do  not  mean  tlie  condition  of  those  who 
moan   with  hunger  and  >hiver  with  cold, 
larly  the  condition  of  that  great  cla- 

•d  from  their  gratification  by  the  breadth 
of  a  ^effort.     In  this  sen- 

ignilicance  of  a  natural  law,  obvioi; 
ordained  by  the  Creator  to  meet  the  necessa; 
of  human  development. 

If  we  would  trace  the  proudest  achievement  of  human 
genius  to  its  origin,  we  must  follow  it  back  through  wind- 
ing pathways,  from  the  brilliant  hall,  from  the  deafening 


HOMES  OF  THE  POOR.  385 

thunder  of  human  applause,  to  the  silent,  dim-lighted  co^ 
tage  of  poverty.  If  the  gratification  of  every  want  lay 
within  the  leisure  grasp  of  that  want,  the  very  atmosphere 
of  human  society  would  become  pestilential  with  stagna- 
tion.- Go  to  the  sunny  tropics  where  nature  with  curious 
caprice  empties  her  lap  of  spoils  in  the  presence  of  men, 
and  behold  the  weakness,  the  languor,  and  the  inanity. 
Humanity  there  has  just  activity  enough  to  be  vicious. 
Where  must  we  go  to  hear  the  hum  of  spindles,  to  feel 
beneath  our  feet  the  jar  of  rushing  trains,  and  to  see  the 
smoky  signals  of  human  industry  waving  over  a  thousand 
hills?  We  must  go  where  winter,  the  genius  of  poverty, 
throws  up  his  icy  bulwark  between  the  wants  of  man  and 
their  gratification. 

Force  and  resistance  constitute  the  eternal  polarity  of 
existence.  The  one  cannot  exist  without  the  other,  any 
more  than  there  can  be  boreal  magnetism  without  austral ; 
any  more  than  there  can  be  action  without  reaction. 

In  order  for  force,  either  physical  or  mental,  to  be  cumu- 
lative the  resistance  must  exceed  the  force  so  as  to  elicit 
the  increase.  Hence  the  mission  of  poverty. 

Not  only  is  poverty  necessary  to  develop  human  nature 
and  make  its  forces  accumulative,  but  it  is  necessary  to 
prevent  the  extravagant  and  irregular  expenditure  of  those 
forces.  It  may  be  that  human  nature  absolutely  perfect 
would  be  self-regulating,  even  when  all  its  desires  could  be 
gratified  without  laborious  effort ;  yet  under  present  condi- 

25 


886 

lires  rr  :iona. 

soon   runs  the  rounds  of  n\'. 
1  then  lift-  1  life'* 

:.ngs  just  in   ;  ind  the  effort 

that  they  cost.     All  Censures  are  en! 
effort.     This  fact  explaii.  tdcn  f: 

always    -  [t  fa    because   of  the  exciting   • 

which  accompanies  the    unlawful  pr  of   it. 

fruit,  however,  which  is  bought  with  hont-st  labor  should 
be   sweetest,    while    the  most    insipid    is  that  which   lies 
within  the  reach  of  the  appetite  without  the  aid 
"When  will  men  learn  that  ease  1  luxury  are 

misnomers?      It    is    the    subtile    and    divine    alchemy   of 

•   which  transforms  sorrow  and  languor  into  joy  and 
peace. 

Homes  of  the   poor!     Sacred   shrines  of  earth   where 

tltar  fires  of  genius   have   been   lighted.      May    the 
world  forever  be  blessed  with  moderate  want.     The  hu- 
man mind  is  never  whole  till  it  has  suffered,  and 
ter  that  the  angel  of  }  >hould  mete  out  the  req; 

suffering  in  the  form  of  a  perpetual  :  .  than  t! 

should  burst  like  the  thunder  storm  from  the  azure  ^ 
luxury,  darkening  with  its  baleful  clouds  tin  life. 

The  home  of  the  poor  is  the  only  home  in  which  disinter- 
ested love  can  dwell,  for  the  pride  that   : 
panics  wealth  is  in  it  .iture  selfish,  and  th:. 

.  e  in  the  mind   that   might  be  occu; 


HOMES  OF  THE  POOR.  387 

sentiment.  Nearly  all  the  common  interest  there  is  in  the 
rich  family  is  simply  the  pride  that  they  take  in  each 
other's  display,  and  this  feeling  usually  engrosses  most  of 
the  time  and  energy  of  the  rich.  That  pride  which  de- 
lights in  the  family  wardrobe  and  equipage  is  simply  the 
pride  of  the  several  individuals  aggregated,  and  as  such 
pride  is  the  excuse  of  selfishness  it  is,  of  course,  incompat- 
ible with  true  affection ;  and  if  affection  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family  cannot  exist  with  this  pride  of  wealth, 
surely  affection  for  mankind  cannot.  This  fact  is  what 
closes  the  doors  of  human  sympathy  against  the  rich  man, 
and  compels  him  to  live  alone  in  his  glory.  Hence  it  is 
that  philanthropic  movements  and  institutions  almost  al- 
ways originate  among  the  poorer  classes. 

The  home  of  the  poor  man  does  riot  necessarily  mean 
a  home  of  suffering,  save  in  that  humiliation  and  re- 
straint to  which  it  is  necessary  for  all  souls  to  be  subjected 
in  order  to  develop.  The  poor  man's  home  need  not  be 
devoid  of  a  certain  degree  of  luxury.  Beautiful  pictures 
and  works  of  art  can  no  longer  be  monopolized  by  the 
rich,  for  the  busy  brain  of  invention  has  brought  them 
within  the  reach  of  all.  The  price  of  ten  cents  worth  of 
tobacco  smoke  saved  each  day  for  fifteen  or  twenty  days 
will  purchase  a  fine  book.  The  very  poorest  of  men  find 
no  difficulty  in  purchasing  this  amount  of  tobacco  smoke 
each  day.  Only  think  how  many  days  there  are  in  a  life- 
time- Three  hundred  and  thirteen  working  days  in  a 


388 

] 

won.  i'6'26.00,  wli 

hundred  vt.li.  :,oiild   b«; 

•  ith  in  ! 
What  an  in>pinii  .f  all 

tu iv  pu:  A  ith  the  little  self  denial   that  it 

to  refrain  from  making  bacon  of  one's  self. 

ing  man  !  jiruini  -  soon  as  you  1,  . 

this  chapter,  you  will  begin  to  lay  up  ten 
if  you  will  smoke  cigars,  then  be  a  little  more  e< 
in  other  things,  and  lay  up  ;r 

life  before  you,  and  it  would  soon  be  so  uatur;: 
you  to  lay  by  the  small  amount  daily,  that  you  \\ 
drop  it  from  habit  into  your  pr;  i>»ry  almost  un- 

consciously.    Try  It,  'p  tlie  h 

"  He  sat  all  alone  in  his  dark  little  room, 

ingers  aweary  with  work  a: 
-  eyes  seeing  not  the  fine  thread*,  for  the  tear*. 
As  be  carefully  counted  •  and  the  yean 

He  had  been  a  poor  weaver. 

"  Not  a  traveler  went  on  the  dusty  highway, 
But  he  tli"-i_:tit,  '  Hi'  lin*  n..iliini:  t<«  do  but  be  gay;' 
No  matter  how  burdened  miirlit  be, 

The  weav  him  more  happy  than  he, 

And  sighed  at  his  weaving. 

"  He  saw  not  the  roses  so  sweet  and  so  red 
That  loo-  :hoii£ht  to  be  dead 

And  oarrit-d  a-.vay  fmm  hi^  dnrk  littl«-  : 
Wrapt  up  in  the  linen  he  had  in  his  loom, 
Were  better  than  wc;i 


HOMES  OF  THE  POOR.  689 

''  Just  then  a  white  angel  came  out  of  the  skies, 
And  shut  np  his  senses,  and  sealed  up  his  eyes, 
And  bore  him  away  from  the  work  at  his  loom 
In  a  vision,  and  left  him  alone  by  the  tomb 
Of  his  dear  little  daughter. 

"  '  My  darling! '  he  cries,  '  what  a  blessing  was  minel 
How  I  sinned,  having  you,  against  goodness  divine* 
Awakel  O  my  lost  one,  my  sweet  one,  awake! 
And  I  never,  as  long  as  I  live,  for  your  sake, 
"Will  sigh  at  my  weaving!  ' 

*'  The  sunset  was  gilding  his  low  little  room 
When  the  weaver  awoke  from  his  dream  at  the  loon*, 
And  close  at  his  knee  saw  a  dear  little  head 
Alight  with  long  curls, — she  was  living,  not  dead,— 
His  pride  and  his  treasure. 

"  He  winds  the  fine  thread  on  his  shuttle  anew, 
— At  thought  of  his  blessing  'twas  easy  to  do, — 
And  sings  as  he  weaves,  for  the  joy  in  his  brea*v 
Peace  cometh  of  striving,  and  labor  is  rest: 
Grown  wise  was  the  weaver." 


HOMES  OF  THE  RICH. 


the  duty  of  the  poor  man  to  live  within 
his  income,  but  it  i.-  the 

rich   111:111    to  make  his  expendit 
tionate    to    i  me.       lV"ple    someL 

;.8hold  up  their  haiuls  i:i  holy  honor  wl 

•  me  million.. 

an  enormous  sum  on  his  buildinr 
robe,  or  his  g  y  do  not  stop  to 

thiiik  that  he  is  thereby  di-  hity 

which  he  owes  to  society,  lie  is  iv.'.i-tnhut- 
ing  the  money  that  he  has  gathered.  Tho 
great  mass  of  the  people  :  n  their  daily 

bread  by  performing  labor  for  others,  but 
only  the  wealthy  can  hire  people  to  labor  for  them.  Hence 
those  who  p<  alth  and  will  not  spend  it  in  being 

served,  are  the  thieves  and  rubbers  of  society.     No  wealthy 
man  has  any  business  to  live  in  a  cottage.     There  are  : 
people  enough  to  live  in  cottages.     It  is  his  br, 
live  in  a  palace,  and  to  hire  those  to  build  it  who  live  in 
cottages. 

We   have,   perhaps,  n.-ed   the  wofd  ser  Ivisedly. 

We  do  not  mean  that  the  wealthy  man  discharge 


OF  THE  RICH.  301 

gation  to  society  when  he  expends  large  suras  to  increase 
his  personal  comforts.  He  should  make  his  wealth  serve 
•  himself  by  first  making  it  serve  society  in  the  promotion  of 
legitimate  business  enterprise.  Nor  do  we  mean  that  he 
should  expend  upon  his  dwelling  and  for  his  own  personal 
gratification  more  than  can  normally  and  lawfully  minister 
to  his  comfort,  convenience  and  aesthetic  faculties. 

And  yet  there  is  concealed  in  the  very  sentiment  of 
extravagance  to  which  wealth  prompts,  a  kind  of  compensa- 
tory principle ;  one  of  nature's  curative  efforts,  by  which 
the  economic  interests  of  society  are  made  self-acting. 
The  world's  wealth  cannot  be  hoarded  by  individuals  save 
for  a  brief  period.  All  attempts  to  do  so  are  thwarted  by 
nature  herself  through  instrumentalities  so  cunning  and 
subtile  as  to  deserve  our  applause.  She  has  three  pro- 
cesses by  which  she  robs  the  rich  man  of  his  unjust  acquisi- 
tions and  gives  back  the  spoils  to  the  poor.  The  first 
process  she  employs  when  she  deals  with  the  miserly  rich 
man,  the  man  who  has  sacrificed  all  other  sources  of  enjoy- 
ment to  this  one  instinct  of  hoarding.  She  has  so  consti- 
tuted him  that  this  sacrifice,  this  concentration  of  all  the 
energies  of  his  being  upon  the  one  organ  of  acquisitive- 
ness, necessarily  results  in  the  withdrawal  of  potency 
from  the  intellectual.  The  miser's  intellect,  accordingly,  is 
never  broad  and  comprehensive.  He  has,  it  is  true,  a  certain 
degree  or  kind  of  intellectuality,  but  it  is  for  the  most 
part  of  the  same  nature  as  that  of  the  fox.  He  makes  a 


use  of  hi  !•  below  their  normal 

:i   tlieiu.     This  i 
inch  organs  and  functions  become  ";. 

nit  w  ••*  of  the 

binl    are    used  chiefly    for  a  purpose  below  their  natural 

func;  W«-  1 

suit  of  this  process  in  barn   fowl  that  use  their  wings  only 

to  fly  any  co:  •••  ithout  ^HM 

Just  so  the  intellectual  wing.s  of  the  miser  are  becoming 
•hem  not  to  fly  with  but  simply  to  aid 

his  running.     In  very  mair:  ca-  ive  only  to  wait 

one  generation   to   see   this   abortive   process   comp' 
The  children  of  the  miser  rat  the  ex  force 

to  keep  the  lock  upon  the    father's  chest.     Thus  nature, 
<-ss  subtler  than  the  necromancy  of  : 

k  to  the  world  that  which  has  been  taken 
from  it. 

Nature  makes  use  of  her  second  method  when  dealing 
with  the  ene:  -cutive  : 

::mlator  rather  than  the  hoarder.     The  two  are  in 
man;.  ;e  in  their  characte;  The  mer- 

chant, the  inanu:  .d   king  show  no 

tendency    toward   the    a;  intellect.     1  their 

func'  .eh  as  to  de  h  and 

f  intellect.     But  the  m 
motto  is,  "a  penny  saved  is  a  penny  earned."     His.  sole 


HOMES  OF  THE  RICH.  393 

delight  is  in  the  consciousness  of  his  possessions,  and  in 
counting  and  sorting  his  valuable  papers.  His  money  is 
all  in  bonds  and  mortgages,  hence  he  lives  in  idleness  and 
gloats  over  the  self-accumulation  of  his  wealth. 

Now  this  second  method  which  nature  employs  in  her 
ceaseless  effort  at  equalization  is  simply  this:  she  has 
made  human  nature  such  (and  consequently  society,  which 
is  but  an  outgrowth  of  human  nature,)  that  the  individual 
want  cannot  be  met  except  by  a  contribution  to  the  gen- 
eral good.  Wealth  is  simply  potential  gratification.  But 
it  cannot  minister  to  the  desires  of  him  who  holds  it  save 
as  it  yields  a  secondary  ministration  to  the  general  inter- 
est, whose  relation  with  it  is  the  sole  source  of  its  poten- 
tiality. The  natural  wants  and  desires  of  man  lie  within 
comparatively  narrow  limits.  Bacon  wisely  says,  "The  per- 
sonal fruition  in  any  man  cannot  reach  to  feel  great  riches." 
A  very  moderate  income  will  meet  all  the  personal  wants 
and  desires  of  man.  He  cannot  want  or  desire  anything 
outside  the  bounds  of  his  nature.  He  desires  food,  but  the 
quantity  has  a  very  obvious  limit,  and  there  must  also  be 
a  comparatively  moderate  limit  to  its  costliness.  He  de- 
sires raiment,  but,  even  if  his  caprice  demands  golden  gar- 
ments, the  inevitable  limit  is  easily  reached.  All  the 
potentiality,  then,  which  his  wealth  possesses,  beyond  a 
small  per  cent.,  must  redound  to  the  general  good  in  spite 
of  him.  The  rich  man  is  the  smallest  stockholder  in  his 
own  wealth. 


OVl 

'      ' 

filing 
'.o  care  of  all  those  mill: 

i  take  me 
for   a  <r,  "tli  Mr. 

:c  of  it ;  h< 

tint's    all.     T  ises,   the  .    tho 

,    which    he   connt.s    by   the  In;  often 

ohliu  e  of,   are    for  the   accommod 

others."     "But  thru  he  ha*  the  income,  the  rents  of  all 
this  '.  i  thonsandidolla: 

annum."      ••Y«--.hnt  he  can  do  nothing  with  his  incoin- 
builtl  1  warehouses  and  ships,  or  loan  money 

on  mortgages  for  the  convenience  of  others.     He's/ourui, 
and  you  can  make  nothing  else  out  of  it."     T 
ou^ht  not  to  complain  so  long  as  it  gets  ninety-nine 
cent,  of  the  rich  man's  income.     If  the  rich  man  uses  his 
wealth  in  building  tenement  hoi  .  he  not  only 

furnishes  remunerative  labor  to  the  workmen    who  build 
them,  but  by  his  :; ion  he  lowe:  md  thus  con- 

true  if  he  i. 

in  railr-.). ids,  for  the  more  railroads  the  more  competition, 
and  henee  the  lower  the  rate  of  transportation*  There  is 
but  one  thing  he  can  do  with  his  money  that  will  not 
yield  the  general  good  a  much  larger  contribution  than 
himself.  He  can  lock  it  up  in  his  own  vault.  But  in  that 
ot  only  yields  himself  nothing,  but  nature  will 


HOMES  OF  THE  RICH.  ol,'.;, 

make  use  of  her  first  method  and  will  take  the  money  her- 
self and  leave  his  children  or  grandchildren  penniless. 

Nature's  third  method  is  a  modification  of  her  first. 
She  uses  it  in  her  dealings  with  the  children  of  the  active 
rich  man.  It  is  simply  that  law  of  which  we  have  already 
spoken  in  our  chapter  on  "  Homes  of  the  Poor,"  by  which 
restraint  upon  desire  develops  executive  power.  In  the 
children  of  the  rich  we  see,  perhaps,  little  if  any  tendency 
to  the  abortive  intellect,  but  the  abortive  tendency  is 
chiefly  or  wholly  confined  to  the  executive  powers.  There 
is  much  difference  between  earning  a  dollar,  and  asking 
papa  for  it.  The  boy  who  toils  all  day  for  a  dollar  and 
brings  it  home  at  night,  hungry  and  tired,  not  only  knows 
the  value  of  that  dollar,  but  by  such  a  practice  he  is 
developing  in  his  soul  a  power  of  action  that  will  enable  it 
to  laugh  at  every  obstacle  that  earth  can  offer.  Take  the 
wealth  from  the  children  of  the  rich  and  they  become 
objects  of  charity.  This  is  especially  true  concerning  the 
daughters  of  the  rich.  Little  pretty  things  !  what  can  they 
do  ?  What  are  their  lives  worth  to  their  kind  ?  One  good, 
noble  factory  girl,  who  has  earned  her  daily  bread  amid 
the  roar  of  machinery,  who  knows  what  it  is  to  "  breathe 
the  factory  smoke  of  torment  from  the  fuel  of  human 
lives,"  and  on  whose  heart  is  stamped,  with  the  die  of 
agony,  the  value  of  a  penny,  is  capable  of  yielding  a  higher 
ministration  to  the  world  than  a  thousand  of  the  pulpy 
daughters  of  luxury  and  ease.  God  bless  the  toiling 


ami  1  shall  n- lease  them  from  t!. 

and  p!ai-<-  in  •   of  a 

\V     M     .'  i   :.  <;   be  by  the  poor  in  ji;  M  of 

thi'ir  .nnatural  and  i.. 

'.it tie  excuse  for 
iking  di: 
. 

-nly    in  the  pro*  !bute 

\vo  have  paid  to  poverty  in  the  preceding  chapter  would  be 

alm<>  ;>licable  had  our  theme  i,  yet 

•.  onld  hardly  advocate  exposing  o  needlessly  to 

tke  of  itspossibic  minis! 

All    normal   action  possible 

gratification  impl:  nt.     T!, 

warfare  between   want  and  -  .<>n  is  a  natural   war- 

and  one  which  cannot  cease  till   the  army  of 
shall  give   tl.  !  of  surrender.     And  he   who  n 

to   engage    in    this  warfare    is    a   tra;  :ter,   and 

•rter's    fate.     lie   who  is  contented   with 
;  to  subdue  it,  must  be  reckoned  with 

this  class  ;    he  has  mutinied  against  the  generalship  of  Lis 
Mai 

Wraith,  then,  if  it  be  the  representative  and  co-relative 
rvice  done  to  mankind,  so  far  from  being  an  evil  or  a 


HOMES  OF  THE  RICH. 

necessary  accompaniment  of  moral  demerit,  is  a  badge  of 
honor.  It  is  the  war  record  which  shows  how  far  one  has 
triumphed  over  the  divinely  appointed  opposition  to  his 
progress ;  and  in  this  sense  may  even  justly  be  compared 
with  the  moral  virtues,  which  are  the  spirit's  war  record, 
and  show  how  far  it  has  triumphed,  in  the  spiritual  war- 
fare, over  the  forces  of  temptation  and  evil.  Wealth  is  an 
evil  only  when  it  is  allowed  to  release  its  owner  from  hon- 
orable and  worthy  labor.  No  possible  condition  of  life  can 
release  one  who  is  physically  and  mentally  able,  from  the 
moral  obligation  to  toil. 

But  suppose  one  inherits  a  million.  Shall  he  toil  for  his 
daily  bread  ?  No  !  not  for  his  daily  bread,  but  in  behalf  of 
mankind.  We  have  but  a  secondary  claim  upon  our  own 
powers.  Wealth  augments  our  natural  endowments.  Two 
men  with  equal  talents,  the  one  poor  and  the  other  rich, 
possess  very  unequal  power  for  doing  good.  So  that  the 
man  who  inherits  a  million  should  begin  life  as  though  he 
were  penniless.  We  do  not  mean,  of  course,  that  lie 
should  chop  wood  or  learn  the  blacksmith's  trade.  But 
that  he  should  regard  the  million  simply  as  a  re-enforce- 
ment of  his  faculties.  He  is  by  so  much,  a  more  talented 
man,  or  rather  his  natural  talents  are  supplemented  by 
that  which  virtually  makes  them  more  powerful. 

The  rich  in  the  majority  of  cases  violate  the  laws  of  the 
home  life,  from  the  fact  that  they  allow  their  wealth  to 
release  them  from  toil,  the  only  thing  that  can  render  the 


:t  of  this    c 

• 

s  and  robbers  of  si  that 

sen: 

«luty  in  order  ti 

•les  them  to  fulfill.      ! 

the  wife  and  daughter  \\\".  form  ( . : 

vice  to  their  kind,  th-  i  ser 

vant  to  serve  their  f-  '  .  e  no 

'.  right  to  tl.  f.     Labor   is  a   natK 

nance,  and  riches  cannot  release  one  from  the  obli. 
a  universal  law.     It  is  as  binding  up-m  the  milli 
upon  the  pauper,  and  lie  who  seeks  to  evade  this 
criminal  according  to  the  statutes  of  the  univ 

Let  every  rich  man's  daughter  engage  in  s  rular 

and  useful  vocation;  and  thus  bless  herself  by   t: 
and  mankind  with  the  product.     Not  th 
pose  upon  her,  simply  because  she  is  wealthy,  th- 
duties  of  a  nun.     But  we  would  have  her  labor  diily  in 
order  that  she  may  fulfill  the  mi  her  life. 

that  she  may  develop  in  herself  .  .:!  upon  the 

ing  generation  that  which  labor  alone  can  <1 
wife  who  does  not,  at  least,  exercise  a  genera' 
over  her  own  housel  a  drone  in  soci- 

There  is,  however,  no  objection  to  the  ein  nt  of 


HOMES  OF  THE  RICH.  309 

domestic  servants,  provided  it  be  necessary;  but  that  law 
of  the  home  life  which  demands  seclusion,  privacy,  and  per- 
sonal management  of  one's  own  affairs,  releases  the  rich 
from  any  obligation  to  furnish  employment  in  this  wayv 
and,  all  things  considered,  renders  it  far  better,  both  for 
themselves  and  for  mankind,  that  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances they  should  not  do  so.  In  very  many  rich  families 
the  position  of  servant  is  but  little  better  than  that  of  a 
slave,  so  that  the  employment  which  such  rich  families 
furnish  to  the  poor  is  of  slight  account.  And  in  those 
families  where  the  servant  is  treated  approximately  as  an 
equal,  she  usually,  either  through  the  ignorance  or  indo- 
lence of  the  wife,  has  the  whole  management  of  affairs, 
which  makes  the  home  a  kind  of  boarding-house  or  hotel, 
so  that  the  home-life  becomes  semi-public.  Yet  if  the  wife 
will  treat  her  servant  as  her  equal,  and  at  the  same  time 
exercise  a  general  supervision  over  her  own  household, 
both  these  evils  may  be  obviated.  And  if  the  employment 
of  a  servant  will  thus  afford  the  wife  leisure  to  engage  in 
some  higher  service  to  her  kind,  it  is  surely  her  duty  to 
employ  one.  But  she  should  consider  herself  as  truly  a 
servant  as  the  one  she  employs,  only  in  a  higher  capacity, 
for  when  wealth  makes  one  anything  but  a  servant  of 
humanity,  it  makes  him  a  robber  and  a  thief. 

The  only  absolutely  selfish  motive  that  the  highest 
morality  permits  in  the  accumulation  of  wealth,  is  the 
normal  desire  for  independence  in  all  the  relations  of  life ; 


400 

an  1  ;  iture  has  e: 

1  wealth. 

and 

Th 
wealth  as,  th  L,  will  ha 

:ice  of  his  : 

however,  he  has  no  moral  right  t  wealth 

home  for  the  mere  gratii:  f  his  vanity.      II.-  .^ 

invest   it   in  some  honorable  and  useful  i: 
will  yield  humanity  a  higher  rate  of  than   t; 

mere  taxation. 

Burns  has  given  us  the  licenses  of  wealth  in  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

"  But  gather  gear  by  every  wile 
That's  justified  by  honor; 
for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge, 
:<>r  a  train  attendant, 
But  for  the  glor 
.  Of  being  independent." 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME. 


ASHION  holds  a  legitimate  place  in  human 
affairs.  It  is  based  in  a  constitutional  pecu- 
liarity of  human  nature,  which  is  a  sufficient 
guarantee  that  it  has  a  right  to  be.  It  is 
only  the  abuse  of  fashion  that  makes  it  re- 
pugnant to  the  better  instincts  of  man. 
When  the  proper  definition  of  fashion  is  pre- 
sented to  the  mind  it  meets  with  an  instinct- 
ive approval. 

We  would  define  true  fashion  as  the  uni- 
formity that  results  from  the  conservation  of 
truth  and  beauty.  That  which  is  true  and 
beautiful  is  naturally  conserved,  -while  that 
which  is  false  and  ugly  contains  the  seeds  of 
its  own  dissolution.  This  necessary  unifor- 
mity resulting  from  a  constant  law  is  natu 
ral  fashion. 

The  fashion  of  the  world,  for  the  most  part, 
is  artificial  and  false.  It  is  simply  a  tem- 
porary uniformity  resulting  from  caprice.  There  are  two 
elements  that  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  fashion 

26 


<05 
sentiment,  ni 

of  the  beautiful 

There  is  n<>  y  of 

u  the  home  world,  V 
Account  ~  .',  in  all 

D  this 

field    that   fa>hi  -n  h  :    tho 

adul;  •  D  tho 

•on    of    which    there    is    an  i$e   to   ; 

tectural  skill,    exhil-'r  I 

wholesome  taste.     I'nlike  th 
btinnets  and  gentleni' 
to  extreme,  the  architectural  •cogniz« 

fundamental  and  unchangi:  <jf  taste  and  liar- 

•iV. 

It  is  true  that  there  hav  ^es  in  r.- 

I     '          :     v;i  witli  tlie   : 

.vage  to  the  imj» 
iry. 
I»ut  in  every  period  there  has  been  an  • 

•\ist  as  men  liave 
been  able  t<  them. 

difications  in   the    detai' 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME.  403 

architectural  adornment,  but  this  does  not  touch  the  fact  of 
permanence  in  the  architectural  ideal. 

It  is,  in  part,  such  permanence  that  makes  the  old-fash- 
ioned houses  seem  beautiful  to  us,  for  these  houses,  v.'ith 
their  well-sweeps,  huge  chimneys,  and  naked  gables  violate 
no  essential  law  of  beauty. 

To  be  beautiful  and  tasteful  a  thing  must  violate  no  law 
of  its  relations.  So  essential  is  this  that  some  have  defined 
beauty  as  "  superior  fitness."  According  to  this  definition 
a  thing  may  be  beautiful  to-day  and  otherwise  to-morrow. 
When  it  loses  its  fitness  it  loses  its  beauty.  But  no  argu- 
ment of  fitness  or  unfitness  can  take  away  the  beauty  from 
the  old-fashioned  fire-place  with  its  cheerful  flames,  which 
like  a  band  of  gold-capped  spirits,  half  in  earnest,  half  in 
jest,  chase  each  other  up  the  broad  chimney.  No  person 
of  sensitive  mind  can  sit  without  emotion  beside  those 
century-old  hearthstones  and  watch  upon  a  stormy  night 
"  the  great  fires  up  the  chimney  roar." 

We  seem  to  see  reflected  from  the  ever  changing  golden 
sheen  of  the  blaze  the  images  of  merry  boys  and  girls  at 
play,  or  with  their  slates  and  pencils  solving  by  the  flicker- 
ing light  the  problems  assigned  them  by  the  old  school- 
master who  long  ago  dismissed  the  school  for  the  last  time. 
Oh  !  the  visions  that  we  see  in  the  fire,  visions  of  the  for- 
gotten long  ago,  of  joys  and  sorrows  strangely  blent ;  vis- 
ions of  romping  boyhood  and  laughing  girlhood,  visions  of 
love's  first  dream,  of  eyes  that  caught  the  broken  story 


404 

ibling  lips  th.it  if  the 

>>f  life's 
of  r* 

life's  .  .is  it  win. Is  ilin 

or  over  ] 
grove 

\\V  would  not  proclaii!. 

.re  enthu>iasts  in  ev. 

>ued  home  as  tli- 

institution  of  home.     W  now.   ii"t   so   much    with 

to  the  mere  outward  cli (Terence  of  arc! 
tc.,  which  superficially  <! 
tho  new-fasliioned  home,  but  more  parti* 

to  those  inner  and  vital  differences  that  d: 
the  two  modes  of  home  life. 

It  is  painful  to  know  that  the  modern  homo  life  <li 
from  the  old-fashioned  chiefly    in  its  departure  from  the 
standard  of  nature. 

There  is  hardly  a  feature  of  the  modern  home  that  does 
not  proclaim  itself  to  the  most  <  .er  a  d» 

breach  of  natural  law.     Let  us  imagine  o 
of  the  board  of  health,  and  in  that  capar:'  ecta 

al  modern  home.    A  servant  :  "g  of 

the  bell  and  informs  us  that  "  Mrs. is  not  .ning 

simply  that  she  has  not  yet — at  ten  o'clock — risen. 


THE-  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME.  405 

is  simply  a  patent  process  of  elongation,  to  which  the  truth 
is  subjected  to  meet  the  demands  of  fashionable  society. 
Of  course  it  is  not  at  all  injurious  to  truth.  When  we 
make  known  our  official  business  we  are  admitted,  and  the 
servant  shows  us  to  the  kitchen,  where  we  learn  nothing  in 
particular  except  the  most  approved  process  of  shortening 
human  life,  and  of  destroying  the  teeth,  morals,  etc.,  of  the 
next  generation.  We  next  enter  the  sitting-room.  We 
are  almost  nauseated  by  the  sickening  odor  of  coal  gas 
that  is  fast  escaping  through  the  open  door  of  the  coal 
stove  while  the  back  damper  is  closed.  The  servant  as- 
sures us,  however,  that  it  is  nothing  unusual,  and  declares 
she  "  can't  smell  a  thing."  We  go  to  the  window  and  try 
to  raise  it  unobserved,  but  to  no  purpose.  There  are  two 
windows,  and  the  outside  one  doesn't  "  shove  up."  The 
Louse,  of  course,  has  all  the  modern  improvement,  includ- 
ing that  beautiful  invention  of  double  windows,  which  has 
perhaps  lengthened  the  "  consumption  column "  in  the 
statistics  of  human  mortality  more  than  any  other  inven- 
tion of  man.  "  There  is  a  register  in  the  chimney,  but 

Mrs. says  the  room  doesn't  heat  up  so  well  when  it  is 

open,  so  we  keep  it  closed  all  the  time." 

Do  the  children  frequently  have  colds  with  sick  head- 
ache ?     "  O,  and  to  be  shure  they  do  most  all  the  time, 

but  Mrs. thinks  it  is  because  the  house  isn't  war-rm 

enough,  and  shure  it  looks  rasonable.     She's  put  a  coal 
stove  in  their  slapin'  room."     As  we  find  it  impossible  to 


*": 

' 

1 
the  " 

'  '.  :-S.   

l 

ain't   beeu   no   di-i'p   o'   light  room  a:  •: 

monl 

in  its  dii. 
•ping  ro- 
>  the  li: 

•ine  v.  indow. 

mat  be  kept  closed  durii: 

the  c  children 

:;iking  •  '..tes  thai 

.c  should  do  it  all,  so  a  double  wind 

i  the  joints;  anjthing 
toke- 

One  of  the  most  ingenious  and  economical  b 

ss  of  wanning  our  dwellings  with 

be  a  little  umvholc.- 

to  have  ..nd  to  i. 

ihe  morning  .1  furred  toi 

and  ;. 

j'icture  of   the    mc> 
home.     Nor  .  nablc  hoiues 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME.  407 

of  the  rich ;  for  these,  indeed,  in  many  respects,  approach 
the  old-fashioned  home.  They  generally  have  more  spa- 
cious sleeping  rooms,  and  the  greater  size  of  such  houses 
secures  better  ventilation  throughout.  It  is  the  average 
home  of  the  great  middle  class  that  we  have  described, 
though,  perhaps,  we  have  made  a  freer  use  of  hyperbole 
than  is  consistent  with  ordinary  descriptive  writing.  We 
do  not  hesitate  to  express  our  conviction  that  the  un- 
hygienic principles  involved  in  the  construction  and  man- 
agement of  the  modern  home  are  the  prime  causes  of 
consumption  and  dyspepsia,  those  two  fell  scourges  to  the 
human  family,  from  which  probably  a  far  greater  number 
perish  than  from  the  stereotyped  curses  of  "  war,  pestilence, 
and  famine." 

If  society  has  a  moral  right  to  compel  men  to  train  them- 
selves in  the  use  of  sword  and  musket,  in  order  that  they 
may  be  able  to  meet  and  repel  the  onslaughts  of  war  and 
conquest,  and  thus  save  their  children  from  bondage  and 
disgrace,  why  has  it  not  also  a  right  to  compel  them  to  so 
train  and  govern  their  bodies  hygienically  as  to  repel  the 
fiercer  onslaught  of  foul  disease,  and  thus  save  their  chil- 
dren from  the  darker  bondage  of  inherited  weakness  and 
premature  death?  There  may  be  a  shade  of  the  ludicrous 
in  our  claim,  but  we  believe  that  society  has  the  same 
moral  right  to  prohibit,  in  the  construction  cf  all  new 
dwellings,  the  nine  by  twelve  "  bed  room  "  that  it  has  to 
prohibit  the  grog-shop;  the  same  right  to  enforce 


408 

1 

le  and  i 

Su<  fca  no 

natural  right  ,      M.m  '  f,  but  to 

world.      The    wheel   is  not  its  0 
natural  : 

:aake  t!  'I  all 

suln'  one  great  right  are 

nected  with  corresponding  ch:': ••-.      I  have 

no  natural  right  :  hich  it  is  not  his 

dutj  to  perform.     This  : 

nee  of  the  general  i  .illy  of  ; 

who 

l'>  ;t  refill  th 

trust  that  .ill  will  assent  ;  .:h.     Pi- 

being  is  able  at  any  time  to  tell  just  what  kind  • 
of  action  is  allowed  by  his  natural  right,  or  d 
this  natural  duty.     We  surely  have  a  natural  right  t 
just  that  quantity  of  food  that  will  meet  the  require; 
of  our  physical  nature,  no  more,  no  less,  and  no  one  would 

;id  that  the  verdict  of  duty,  if  the  ox 
be  ascertained,  would  not  be 

This  illustration  is  no  more  obvious  than  that  which  it 
is  intended  to  ill'  on  of  ti. 

pie   to   every    function   and    relation   of  life.     When  one 
ceases  to  act  in  accordance  with  this  principle,  and  in  so 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME.  409 

doing  falls  below  the  aggregate  intelligence  of  society,  he 
becomes  a  proper  subject  for  civil  guardianship  and  gov- 
ernmental regulation.  Few  question  the  right  of  society 
to  prevent  a  man  from  taking  into  his  stomach  poison  liquid 
in  the  form  of  alcohol,  but  why  should  they  question  its 
right  to  prevent  him  from  taking  into  his  lungs  poison  gas 
in  the  form  of  air  that  has  been  robbed  of  its  oxygen  and 
charged  with  carbonic  acid  by  the  vital  demands  of  half  a 
dozen  persons  in  a  tight,  unventilated  room,  its  atmosphere, 
perhaps,  still  further  vitiated  by  the  liberal  contributions  of 
a  kerosene  lamp  or  two?  Are  fluids  and  gases  so  different 
in  their  nature  that  society  has  a  moral  right  to  prohibit 
the  use  of  the  poison  fluid  of  the  grog-shop,  while  it  has  no 
right  to  prohibit  the  free  use  of  the  deadly  gas  of  the  small, 
unventilated  sleeping-room  ? 

Our  condemnation  of  the  unhygienic  features  of  the 
modern  home  may  seem  somewhat  strange,  but  while  we 
acknowledge  the  views  to  be  radical  and  the  language 
strong,  we  are  sure  they  do  no  injustice  to  our  convictions. 

While  we  believe  emphatically  in  all  the  civilizing 
forces ;  while  we  would  bid  God-speed  to  every  useful  in- 
vention ;  and  while  our  faith  in  man's  progression  and  ulti- 
mate achievements  amounts  almost  to  fanaticism, — we 
must  still  contend  that  the  modern  home  in  most  of  its  fea- 
tures is  a  retrogression  and  not  an  advancement. 

Yet  this  is  not  necessary.  Nor  is  it  due  to  the  refine- 
ment of  the  modern  home.  It  is  not  attributable  to  the 


,iO  .  HOME. 

ing  ran/ 

'•.   ;uj'l   t:. 
I>eople  of 

;t  ebullitions  ot 

••ssary    acc«  nts   of    sel: 

But  on  the  g  te  house* 

appears,  to 

possible  doom.     In  the  dim,  nnc<  ulows  of 

a  finger  points  to  the  deserted  bail 

.bylon  and  in   our 

luxury  there  is  a  sickening  sugg* 
Rome's  death-bed.     The  same  bpell  of  public  ai:  . 
effeminacy  seems  to  be  settling  over  us  that  ha> 
the  doom  of  erery  pc.  inpire  v, 

now  ie.     Phv  espe- 

cially of  women,  in  every  age  has  been  \ 
able  prognostic  of  national  downfall.  ho  \vill 

•here  ar.  in  this  direction  that  u... 

excite  alarm?     We  have  no  sym;  'Jiose  mourn- 

ful, dyspeptic  are  fore-  Ji'ig  tli- 

nal  of  u  trouble  ahead/'  for  the  i.  i.sure  of  listening 

to   the  music   of  their   own   :  lieve 

there  are  forces  at  work  in  Ann  :  .ould 

thoughtful   men   and  women   seriously   to    reflect. 
We  have  not  criticised  the  modern  home    thus   sev> 
a  modern  h-.;:<e.     We    condemi. 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOME.  411 

evil  features  that  constitute  no  necessary  part  of  the 
home. 

The  more  modern  the  home  the  better.  The  world's 
latest  thought  is  its  best,  and  we  can  truly  say  from  our 
heart,  God  bless  the  noble  inventors  of  our  land  who  are 
lifting  the  burden  of  drudgery  from  the  shoulders  of 
women.  We  are  glad  that  the  old-fashioned  loom  has 
been  used  for  kindling  wood.  We  are  glad  that  spinning 
no  longer  constitutes  the  chief  occupation  of  our  girls ;  and 
yet  if  this  release  from  the  bondage  of  labor  results  only  in 
idleness,  as  it  does  in  too  many  homes,  better  a  thousand 
times  that  the  hum  of  the  spinning-wheel  should  again  be 
heard  ! 

If  the  modern  home  with  its  many  true  improvements 
would  conserve  the  naturalness  of  the  old-fashioned  home, 
we  should  have  one  that  would  be  typical  of  all  that  hope 
points  to  in  the  great  hereafter,  but  until  it  does  this  we 
must  regard  the  old-fashioned  home  of  our  fathers  as  the 
best  and  truest  type  of  that  which  we  hope  awaits  us. 

"Isolated,  bleak,  aud  dreary,  stands  the  old  house  on  the  hill. 

Reoms  that  rang  with  mirth  and  music  now  are  empty,  silent,  still. 

Desolation  reigns  supremely,  and  the  old  house  bare  and  lorie 

Stands  •with  many  a  broken  window,  through  which  cheerful  lights  once  shone; 

Wrapped  in  dust  and  hung  with  cobwebs,  how  each  empty,  low-ceiled  room 

Seemingly  resents  in  echoes  every  loudly  spoken  tone. 

Houses  old  and  bare  and  lonely,  thickly  o'er  this  laud  of  ours, 

Stand,  like  long-forgotten  headstones,  'midst  thair  tangled  growth  of  flowers. 

***«»**»*»##*»» 
"Never  then  forsake  the  roof-tree,  from  its  shelter  do  not  roam; 

Like  a,  sacred  shrine  of  incense,  keep  the  altar  fires  of  home. 

For  of  all  th«  piteous  ruins,  not  one  comes  so  near  my  heart 

As  some  old  deserted  homestead  where  ouce  life  and  love  had  part,'' 


OUR  LAST  FAREWELL  OF  HOME. 


L 


tl.  :  y  linman  life  is  writ- 

one  "  —  inoh 

.veil,   tli.  :g  sob,  I  -ing 

:  the 

rainbow  of  .  no  matter  how 

fair   and  life's   < 

end  of  that  lift-  shall  be  sobs  and  tears.     But 
one  is   never  called   from  1. 
until   he  is  willing  to  leave  it.     II 

.i-d,    instead    of   compelled    to   seek   an- 
other  home.     We   refer,  of  course,  to   the 
process  of  a  natural  death,  resulting 
from  old  age.     No  provision  h,  ;uade 


to  lighten   the  agonies  of  suicide,  or  an  untimely  d 
The  principle,  however,  whi 

<"3  to  act  to  a  certain  extent,  but  it  is  only 
during  the  actual  process  uf  death.    It  does  n<  that 

insti-  •  life  that  makes  the  very  thought  of 

ource  of  sorrow. 

It    has   been    said    tha:  lay   live   as  long   as   he 

chooses,  and  as  a  rule  this  is  true,  for  as  a  rule  one  may, 


OUR  LAST  FAREWELL  OF  HOME.  413 

by  temperance  and  moderation,  die  a  natural  death ;  that 
is,  by  the  gradual  decay  of  all  the  powers.  When  this  is 
the  case  the  instinct  of  life  is  one  of  the  first  to  die. 
Hence  when  one  cannot  live  any  longer,  he  will  not  choose 
to  live.  This  is  the  means  by  which  God  persuades  us  to 
leave  our  earthly  home.  He  convinces  us  and  makes  us 
feel  that  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  leave  the  home  that 
no  longer  has  any  charm  for  us.  He  takes  away  the  in- 
stinctive love  of  life  and  transfers  the  home  love. 

We  have  said  that  the  love  of  life  is  one  of  the  first  in- 
stincts to  die.  It  would,  doubtless,  be  the  first  were  it  not 
for  the  fact  that  nature  preserves  it  as  long  as  it  can  be  of 
any  use  to  us.  It  is  this  same  instinct  that  gives  the 
power  to  resist  death,  and  to  live  amid  influences  that 
tend  to  destroy  life.  Without  this  we  could  not  live  an 
hour.  Now  it  would  not  be  wise  in  nature  to  allow  this 
instinct  to  die  so  long  as  we  are  capable  of  living  any 
longer.  But  no  sooner  has  this  stage  been  passed  than  all 
dread  of  death  at  once  ceases,  and  the  person  softly  sinks 
into  the  arms  of  death  as  the  child  sinks  into  slumber. 

The  death  of  this  instinct  is  not  instantaneous,  for  it  is 
subject  to  the  same  law  of  decay  as  the  other  powers. 
But  its  death  always  precedes  that  of  the  general  system. 

The  testimony  of  the  old  will  confirm  this  doctrine,  that 
the  love  of  life  and  the  fear  of  death  gradually  vanish  as 
they  approach  life's  goal.  The  poet  has  said,  "  There  is  a 
beauty  in  woman's  decay."  But  this  beauty  of  decay  is 


I 

of  humanity.     '1  In-  law  < 

ness.     1 1 

forms  o!" 

old  ngi«  i; 

• 

sents  tlit  of  a  lifi 

umjihant  period  in  whii-li  tl  .    the  gi< 

closing  with  a  <L  ;»eals  no: 

but  to  the  soul. 

We  are  so 

with  the  cMinlit! 

.rroiind   us  .  The 

oUllg 

man 

mature  man  thin'  uld  like  to  stop 

and  fores  and  glory  of  hi 

but   the   old   man   thinks  th-  ;ne   to   ;- 

the  la'  nd  enjoy 

lie  old  man  alone  whose  He 

is  permitted  to  rest,  and  as  he  has  nothing  to  do 
ami   :  soul  on  divine 

whether  he  takes  thai  in  that  beauty  while 

gazing  at  the  'ife  or  th-  of  the 

Contentment   is   the   natural    <  :i   of  the   human 

mind.     Discontent  is  an  abnormal  condition,  and  the  ten- 


OUR  LAST  FAREWELL  OF  HOME.  415 

dency  to  be  satisfied  with  present  conditions  and  circum- 
stances descends  into  the  minuter  relations  of  life.  In 
summer  we  feel  that  we  could  not  possibly  endure  the 
winter,  but  when  the  winter  comes  there  comes  with  it 
new  pleasures  and  delights  which  we  would  not  exchange 
for  those  of  the  summer.  Even  on  a  beautiful  morning 
we  are  apt  to  wish  it  would  always  remain  morning,  and 
when  enjoying  ourselves  at  some  evening  entertainment 
we  think  the  evening  the  most  delightful  part  of  the  day. 

This  principle  in  our  nature  manifests  itself  still  more 
forcibly  in  old  age.  When  we  reach  that  period  we  are  in 
that  condition  spiritually  as  well  as  physically  in  which 
the  only  pleasures  that  we  can  enjoy,  or  that  we  desire  to 
be  able  to  enjoy,  are  just  those  which  are  given  us. 

In  the  process  of  death  we  see  that  the  lowest  powers 
die  first.  If  the  face  of  the  dying  be  watched  there  will 
be  seen  to  play  over  it,  in  regular  succession,  the  expres- 
sion of  the  various  faculties  in  the  order  of  their  rank. 
The  last  to  die  are  the  moral  and  religious. 

These  leave  their  divine  impress  upon  the  countenance, 
hence  the  calm,  holy  and  serene  look  so  often  seen  upon 
the  faces  of  the  dead. 

The  terror  of  death  recedes  just  as  fast  as  we  approach 
it,  and  when  we  reach  the  last  stage  of  decay  the  dark 
river  is  found  to  be  illumined  by  the  mirrored  stars  of 
faith. 

There  are  joys  in  age  which  youth  cannot  know.     They 


s   whirh 

. 

'Hith  li: 
in  ID- 
ing  i 

.iig  mar. 
•  mplish    in  a  tVw  si. 

of  toil. 

.th  and  manhood  h,: 

-    the  only  natural    and 

human  soul  th.  from  the 

cradle  to  eternity,  ai: 

ti"ii  The 

former  have  in  them  the  element  of  exl.  !  ire 

allied  to  those  of  into-1 
very   nature   strength-giving.     Age  d 
from  tracing  through  th-  ' 
events  of  human  history.    It  is  to  age  alone  th. .  • 
even:  from  their  : 

:    and   divin: 

9     but     f:  .lice.      Tlu- 

derives  a  conviction  from  liis  loi;.  -Tva- 

tion  that  "there's  a  divinity  tha1  our  ends."     He 

sees,  as  youth  cannot  ificance  of  a 

life  completed.     To  him  death  is  but  the  crowning  a 


OUR  LAST  FAREWELL  OF  HOME.  41? 

afe's  great  drama,  the  opening  of  a  golden  gate  at  the  end 
of  life's  narrow  lane. 

Life  and  death  are  counterparts  of  each  other.  There 
are  those,  however,  who  believe  that  physical  death  came  tc 
man  as  a  punishment  for  sin,  and  that  had  it  not  been  for 
sin,  all  mankind  would  have  lived  eternally  upon  the  earth. 
But  the  law  that  dooms  man  to  physical  death  is  the  same 
which  dooms  the  animalcule.  If  the  coral  reefs  were  in 
process  of  formation  when  the  first  sin  was  committed  it 
was  because  the  corals  were  dying  then.  Did  not  death 
obtain  among  the  finny  tribes  of  the  ocean,  perhaps  a 
single  year  would  be  sufficient  to  crowd  the  deep  to  over- 
flowing ;  but  if  the  animals  were  dying,  then  must  not  ail 
which  is  subject  to  the  organic  law  have  died  also  ?  Man 
is  as  subject  to  the  organic  law  as  any  other  member  of 
the  animal  kingdom.  He  eats  and  drinks  and  breathes 
and  sleeps  as  they  do.  Some  of  these  animals  are  not 
only  made  on  the  same  general  plan  as  man,  but  they 
possess  every  physical  organ  corresponding  in  position  and 
action,  and  both  animals  and  man  owe  their  lives  to  the 
vital  action  in  these  organs. 

Now  can  any  one  believe  that  the  great  process  of  vital 
action  in  man,  of  digestion  and  respiration,  was  governed 
by  some  other  principle  before  he  did  wrong  for  the  first 
time,  and  was  afterwards  changed?  Of  all  the  outgrown 
doctrines  of  dogmatic  theology,  this  must  be  regarded  as 
the  most  childish  and  unscientific.  We  must  not  be  mis- 

87 


'•reeds    which  an-    at  •>    with    natural 

.MSI  n<>!  .     I-  can 

1    us    in>    h<  hiti-.n    (o   reg.ud    it    as 

Human  death  is  ;is  much  an  ordii 

ing  of  t!  •  g  of  the  rose. 

•i  with  :i 
all  that  lives.      We  can  regard  death  only  as  I 

us  from  thusc  upon  a 

whin  .ills  a  stillness  •  '  ian   sin: 

and  the  last  smile  th;r  fmm  tl. 

is  like  the  waving  of  a  kerchief  >hip 

rath  the  hori/.oii    into  the  nnkno\vi, 
with  away  from    the  daik  \\ 

"iir  friend  has  gone. 

The  doctrine  which  I  that  physical  d.-ath  is  a  pun- 

ishment for  >5n.  v  lone  much  t-  a   the 

faith  of  mankind  in  the  doctrine  of  immortality,  hy  giving 
to  it  the  air   of  superstition.     A  genuine   <  th    of 

man's  nature  cannot  be  at  variance  with  t! 
pliy.     Man  is  the  highest 

natural    history,    the    ch:  'hat  holds   a 

higher  environments. 

We  must  look  heyoml  the  fact  of  death  fo: 
must  l-.ok  to  the  analysis  of  that  whi< 
nnd  nature  and 

doom  it  to  oblivion. 

In    our  next  chapter  we  shall  try  to  show  that  man's 


OUR  LAST  FAREWELL  OF  HOME.  419 

nature  itself  holds  the  credentials  of  his  immortality,  that 
just  as  the  nature  of  the  lungs  would  prove  the  existence 
of  air,  so  man's  spiritual  organization  proves  the  existence 
of  God  and  the  fact  of  immortality. 

But  in  this  chapter  we  are  considering  only  the  mid- 
night tragedy  of  death,  in  which  the  scenery  is  dark  and 
the  actors  are  cruel.  We  have  reason  to  believe,  however, 
that  the  curtain  falls  before  the  play  is  ended,  for  the  last 
scene  is  too  stupendous  for  the  stage  appliances  of  earth. 
The  lights  are  too  dull  to  represent  the  glory  of  that  sub- 
lime tableau.  Hence  the  cunning  plot,  that  makes  the 
curtain  fall  with  a  rush  that  extinguishes  the  lights  and 
leaves  the  death-bed  watchers  frantic  and  bathed  in  tears 
— a  wailing  audience  in  a  darkened  theater. 

"  Lo!  'tis  a  gala  night 

Within  the  lonesome  latter  years! 
An  angel  throng,  bewinged,  bedight 

In  veils,  and  drowned  in  tears, 
Sit  in  a  theater  of  hopes  and  fears, 

While  the  orchestra  breathes  fitfully 
The  music  of  the  spheres. 

"  Mimes,  in  the  form  of  God  on  high, 

Mutter  and  mumble  low, 
And  hither  and  thither  fly; 

Mere  puppets  they,  who  come  and  go 
At  bidding  of  vast  formless  things 

That  shift  the  scenery  to  and  fro, 
Flapping  from  out  therr  condor  wings 

Invisible  woe! 

"That  motley  drama!  ah,  be  sure 

It  shall  not  be  forgot ! 
With  its  Phantom  chased  for  evermore, 
By  a  crowd  that  seize  it  not, 


420 


,-h  n  rirrlc  that  ever  rvtarMth  in 
•elf.um. 

>.  ,   M  .  :  .:•    i  ii.. .ri'  '>f   .-in, 

r.  Uie  KHll  <»(  th. 

It  v  ..«•»!— wltli  mortal 

The  mime*  become  it> 
And  the  seraphs  sob  at  vermin  fang* 

In  human  gore  imbued. 

''Out— out  are  the  lights,— out  all  I 

' 

irtain,  a  funeral 

('.•in.      A*V  :;  'A  ;:l.  :!i.    r::    ii 

An  1  tln>  angels  all  pallid  and  wan, 

Thai 
And  its  hero,  the  Coi.  rm." 


HEAVEN  OUR  HOME. 


have  thought  it  expedient  to  consider  this 
chapter  wholly  in  the  light  of  reason.  And 
should  the  devout  Christian  feel  that  the 
coldness  of  its  logic  is  inconsistent  with  the 


subject,  we  assure  him  that  it  is  not  because 
we  are  not  in  the  fullest  sympathy  with  the 
Christian  ideal,  but  because  we  have  pur- 
posely aimed  to  treat  the  subject  from  the 
standpoint  of  science. 

This  is  why  we  have  avoided  all  reference  to  Scriptural 
authority,  even  where  such  reference  woujd  seem  peculiarly 
appropriate. 

It  is  the  skeptic  who  most  requires  to  be  convinced  of 
the  cardinal  truths  of  religion.  But  with  him  Scriptural 
evidence  has  little  weight,  while  he  is  usually  proud  of  his 
scientific  attainments.  So  we  believe  the  thoughtful  Chris- 
tian will  rejoice  in  the  method  we  have  chosen. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  in  this  chapter  to  attempt  any 
description  of  that  place  or  condition  toward  which  the 
instinct  of  faith  in  all  ages  has  pointed  mankind.  Our 
efforts  will  be  simply  to  satisfy  enquiring  minds  that  the 


•h;it  univn>.i!  i'.  h  liuinais 

\\ard  and  1. 
hion.       .  '   tho 

I 

ta  of  ni"  MTU  in 

undrrmi;  con- 

•ntifir  ;.: 
that  ' 

that  <-orre- 

spoii'i  e  realitt- 

shadows  an  Hrrnal  home,  and  the  <j 
take  care  of  itself. 

1 1.  .\\cvn-  painful   may  ho  the   ! 
that  ilini;  interrogations  of  the  ] 

thing  more  than    can    hi-  ai. 
Mation.     The    j«:  f  human    d  one  that 

itionsof  history.      Th.-  hi-ur  ' 
\vht'ii  the  great   (ju.-stion   must  he  «1: 

;ry.     The    awakened    spirit  of  doul 
confronts  religion  with   the  awful  (p 

God?"     -N  then  I  :  :  true  t!  irth- 

home  is  hut  a  typo,  a  w.-rki' 

Th-  1  l»y 

'hat  appeal    to  human  1  hing 

faith  has  s<-« 
to  grow  dim. 
And  y. 


HEAVEN  OUR  HOME.  423 

itself  that  gives  rise  to  these  questions,  for  the  belief  in 
God  and  immortality  is  as  universal  as  that  in  obligation 
and  human  rights.  Every  human  heart  is  the  theater  of 
this  immortal  instinct.  We  care  not  how  the  heart  may  be 
blinded  with  the  self-deception  of  atheism, — and  atheism  is 
always  and  necessarily  self  deception, — when  the  mask  is 
torn  off  we  find  immortality  written  there. 

We  do  not  mean  that  the  human  heart  has  not  also  been 
the  theater  of  doubt  and  fear.  God  seems  to  have  or- 
dained that  in  every  department  of  life  we  should  find 
the  hand  of  truth  and  grasp  it  in  the  dark.  Into  the  un- 
answering  ear  of  the  ages  man  has  poured  his  wailing  cry. 
Through  the  dark  gorges  he  has  climbed  to  the  star-lit 
height  whence  a  straggling  beam  has  fallen  upon  the  mid- 
night of  human  history. 

He  has  listened  in  the  darkness 

To  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
He  has  solved  night's  awful  secret 

Through  the  alchemy  of  fears. 

From  the  dawn  of  time  he  has  been  trying  to  say  father; 
and  shall  we  say  that  his  lisping  annuls  the  infinite  argu- 
ment of  instinct?  Who  would  question  the  reality  of  the 
parental  instinct  when  once  he  had  heard  the  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  of  the  little  child  to  speak  the  honored  title? 

As  the  child  instinctively  questions  his  father  concern- 
ing the  great  untried  future  of  his  life,  so  humanity  with 
the  same  instinct  pours  its  anxious  yearnings  into  the  ear 
of  the  universal  father. 


• 

• 

. 

into   ;i! 

<  >lder 

than  .I.'!'.  thc- 

• 

cam;  .-;  grappled    with  it   in 

A !•«.•.  : lights  of  ;he  swe< 

and   lei  1  the  language  of  :  '-ope, 

•  •  has  never  re 

realm  through  t'  ill. 

Th.  :  of  immortality 

Tin-  rhuivh  cannot  claim 

\vtli  of  the   lain:  : 

when  love  for  the  first  time  1  :•  the  or 

and  !  In  sj  / 

'-    ami  .    the    universal    soul    of    man    r- 

lilivion  with  an  it  iiiipli  lure. 

Hither    love    ami  11    and    honor   and 

:uortal,  or  nature,  at  whose  hands  we  re 
the  una'.  -,t  of  in- 

nature  couelusi .  ^rirne 

nature  ;: 

This  is  :,e  to  tho  charge  of  su- 


HEAVEN  OUR  HOME.  425 

j/«*5tltion.  Skepticism  is  rife  among  the  masses,  but 
this  fact  is  itself  fraught  with  a  weighty  meaning.  "His- 
tory repeats  itself"  is  an  adage,  but  its  vast  significance  is 
understood  and  felt  by  few  souls,  The  life  of  nature  is 
but  the  ceaseless  movement  round  a  spiral,  a  circle  with  an 
ever  increasing  diameter.  Through  doubts  and  questions 
the  world  crept  into  the  light  of  faith.  One  grand  revolu- 
tion of  the  divinely  ordained  process  has  been  completed 
and  doubts  and  questions  now  begin  again,  but  this  time 
farther  from  the  center,  on  a  grander  scale. 

These  doubts  and  questionings  will  lead  humanity  to 
prouder  heights  and  more  glorious  beatitudes  when  they 
shall  have  completed  another  revolution.  The  world's 
highest  faith  to-day  began  in  the  doubts  and  questions  of 
brutal  ignorance.  What,  then,  shall  be  the  issue  of  those 
which  were  born  of  the  telescope  and  the  laboratory  ? 
The  proud  champions  of  unbelief  are  doing  a  grand  work. 
Every  triumph  of  Ingersoll  will  in  the  great  revolutions  of 
God's  design  be  found  to  be  a  sermon  for  the  truth.  lie 
is  fast  defeating  his  own  ends  by  hastening  the  world  over 
its  second  desert  of  doubt. 

Science  will  struggle  on  with  glass  and  lens  till  it  learns 
that  love  gives  no  lines  in  the  spectroscope,  that  honor  is 
without  physical  properties,  and  conscience  is  unaffected 
by  the  galvanic  current. 

Skeptical  scientists  object  to  the  doctrine  of  immortal- 
ity, because  they  cannot  demonstrate  it  with  their  science. 


h 

| 

informti  it. 

Tli.  ism   of   tlie    uni . 

MI   in 
the  clmi  a  of  those  very  truths  which   i. 

Whether  a;_:.u:i-t    tin-  will  «f  >cience,  or  in 
with    it,  her   pnr 

•  •onstitutii.n  of  man. 
f  the  soul,  t  lie  iniiul. 

in  the  form  of  a  c«  .tw.     V."- 

facul;  1  accord:  ;w  of 

;ti«)ii.     We  possess  an  in.stin 
tinct  and  :'  tlie  mind, 

the  law  of  lianiMiiv.     Our  muthcmai 

nninterpart    in    the   eternal    i  of  time  and   space, 

number  and   quantit  ikies 

of  the  mind,  hence    funetii-i;  .in.  as    : 

in  the  univ«  .  more,  no  less.     There  is  no  uni- 

.'.  principle  :\  .live  or^an  in  tlie 

human  brain.      I!  :ital  faculties,  and  the  n;. 

iiiutual  keys.     We  believe  that  the  evoluti<> 


HE  A  YEN  0  UR  HOME.  4  :>. ': 

have  unnecessarily  weakened  their  own  cause  by  a  false 
definition  of  faculty.  They  would  make  the  primitive  fac- 
ulties of  the  mind  only  so  many  habits.  But  the  question 
arises,  whence  the  first  impulse  that  was  the  necessary 
antecedent  to  the  first  act  of  the  faculty  ?  Acts  cannot 
become  habitual  nor  hereditary  until  they  have  been  per- 
formed at  least  once.  But  it  requires  a  faculty  to  perform 
them  for  the  first  time.  Hence  the  essential  characteristic 
of  the  faculty, — the  power  to  give  impulses  and  the  skill 
to  perform, — must  have  existed  prior  to  the  influences  of 
habit  and  heredity.  The  fact  of  manifestation  through 
the  instrumentality  of  a  cerebral  organ  is  the  one  and 
only  unmistakable  evidence  of  a  primitive  faculty. 

Light  is  doubtless  the  natural  agency  by  which  the 
power  of  vision  has  been  developed.  Yet  light  could  no 
more  originate  that  germ  of  a  distinct  mental  faculty  that 
lies  behind  all  phenomena  of  vision,  and  by  which  we 
translate  those  phenomena,  than  it  could  create  the  acorn 
whose  involved  potency  it  simply  evolves.  The  eye  existed 
potentially  or  the  light  could  not  have  developed  it.  Man 
is  as  he  is  because  of  his  environments,  but  we  cannot  say 
that  man  is  because  of  his  environments.  We  are  at  least 
driven  to  the  assumption  that  matter  held  a  human  po- 
tency independent  of  all  environment.  That  potency  was 
the  germs  of  human  faculties,  God-created  and  God-im- 
planted. The  magic  finger  of  the  sunbeam  touched  them 
and  they  awoke,  and  hammering  upon  the  anvils  of  mat- 


• 

hold- 

Could  l: 
only  li;i\' 
all  t-nvironiu- 

•  which  if 

formed  by  the  living  j.nji 

environu.  .»t  wonderful  tl: 

:ivir.'iimcnt-.     PilV'  n  i;t  Ml! :: 

have  :i  different  mod  in  the  facul' 

Divi:  :p.     In<:-  In  tlie 

'.on   mind   this   fucnl: 
t:nd  an  ol>jcrtive  in  idols  <>f  wood  and  stone. 

:-hij>.      And 

a  lin  d  which  envirnnmei!' 

fications.     They   ma;..  t    of  the 

faculty  to  forge  a  material  organ,  he):  .ce  of 

exti 
Tli 

.  on  the 

jmiduee  that  mor 
It  }'!•  fTect  invari-'.hly  i 


HEAVEN  OUR  HOME.  423 

man.  Has  nature  thus  erred?  Has  she  given  us  a  God- 
organ,  and  no  God  to  meet  it;  demand  ?  A  stomach 
forever  doomed  to  hunger  in  the  presence  of  imaginary 
food;  lungs  strangling  for  air  in  the  deaths  of  a  unive:.-;.! 
vacuum  ;  an  ear  forever  straining  to  catch  the  voice  of  har- 
mony while  nature  shrinks  beneath  the  wing  of  everlasting 
silence  ;  an  eye  forever  gazing  into  the  blackness  of  uni- 
versal night,  while  no  wave  of  ether  touches  with  its  trem- 
bling fingers  the  bosom  of  the  stars. 

What  should  we  say  of  such  inconsistency  in  nature  ? 
And  yet  to  give  us  a  love  of  God,  when  there  is  no  God  to 
love,  would  be  as  base  a  falsehood.  Every  one  believes  in 
the  eternal  consistency  of  nature.  The  atheist  has  but 
transferred  his  worship  from  God  to  nature,  and  no  argu- 
ment can  convince  him  that  she  would  for  once  be  incon- 
sistent, but  he  must  tell  us  why  she  gave  us  a  God-organ 
and  no  God. 

Every  precept  and  every  exhortation  of  the  Christian 
religion  is  the  recognition  of  some  particular  function  of 
our  being,  and  every  prohibition  is  the  recognition  of  its 
liability  to  perverted  or  diseased  action. 

The  ethics  of  the  Christian  religion  is  based  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  right  and  wrong,  and  science  lays  its  finger  on  the 
organ  of  conscientiousness.  Prayer  is  as  much  an  organic 
function  of  the  soul  as  digestion  is  of  the  physical  system, 
and  for  the  same  reason  there  is  a  prayer  organ. 

Will  the  atheist  tell  us  that  nature  has  given  us  a  prayer- 


• 

was 

only  the-   oiy 

the  doctrine  of  spirit:. 

rituality.     And 
tiani:  ..Is  to  an  The 

human 
is  an  organic  in>tinct.      As   tin-  n 

.•nih  guided  by  the  faultless  pilot  instinct,  so 
flics  heavenward  liy  an  instinct  B  .ss. 

Christianit ;.  .lity  or  our 

or  nature  li«  s.     We  leave  our  earthly  home  ]> 
find  a  letter  and  a  1  one,  or  overall   • 

lianij  the  sj.eetral  lenses  of  deception,  ami  fit  -  ele- 

ments \\viv  Minded  in  the  \VO!:L!I 

Whether  heaven  l>e  a  material  ]  B  spiritual  condi- 

tion is  a  prolilem  that    falls    out- 

tions.    For  aught  we  can  know,  ft  the  gra: 

of  centers  around  whieh 

unme;i-i;r«  d   BJStemt.      <  >r   it   may  l>e    that   it   ex: 

pendently  of  space,  that  -piritna!. 

that    jnst    under  the    thin    veil  of  materiality  n; 

above  us  and  beneath  us  lies  the  ineffable  realm  of   the 

Eternal. 


HEAVEN  OUR  HOME.  431 

Whatever  may  be  the  essence  of  heaven,  we  may  rest 
assured  that  it  will  afford  the  opportunities  and  conditions 
of  eternal  soul  growth.  The  buds  that  on  earth  have 
fallen  before  their  time  shall  blossom  there  in  fadeless 
beauty.  Genius  shall  exhibit  its  divine  allegiance,  and 
love  shall  be  crowned  the  eternal  queen. 

There  comes  a  time  to  the  reverent  soul  when  the  veil 
is  lifted,  and  in  the  awful  hush  of  that  moment  we  call 
death,  when  the  fetters  are  falling  from  the  spirit's  limbs, 
amid  strains  of  music  soft  as  the  rustle  of  wings,  it  is  per- 
mitted to  look  upon  the  unveiled  splendor.  And  often, 
very  often,  it  beckons  to  us  and  whispers  with  its  latest 
breath,  " I  hear  them  now"  always  laying  peculiar  stress 
upon  the  word  "  now,"  which  indicates  that  through  the 
presence  of  this  divine  instinct  it  had  been  listening.  On 
how  many  a  dying  couch  have  the  sacred  words,  "The 
pure  in  heart  shall  see  God,"  found  their  last  and  best  veri- 
fication ! 

But  science  cannot  reproduce  the  vision  of  the  dying. 
Their  own  faint  whispers  cannot  portray  it.  We  must  go 
down  to  the  dark  water.  The  details  of  the  passage  are 
known  only  to  those  who  embark  in  the  unseen  ship.  We 
cannot  tell  how,  nor  when,  nor  where,  nor  amid  what  sights 
and  sounds  we  shall  enter  the  unseen  realm.  We  only 
know  that  while  beyond  the  chill  flood  silence  reigneth  and 

No  sound  of  gently  dipping  oar 
Hints  to  us  of  the  other  shore, 


• 

• 
• 

i-unii'  \  I    of    which    it 

triumph, t 
singing,  tlu>:  •  ing. 

.ust  be  so:    Plato,  thoo  reMoaett  well. 

i 

Or  wlifiiof  this  secret  dread  and  inward  horror 
Of  f  Why  shrinks  the  soul 

Tis  heaven  it<>  If  t i  .t  an  hereafter 

And  intimates  eternity  to  man." 


TESTIMONIALS  F1K?JVI  |IlGH   AuTHOJttTYt 
9  f 


GEORGE  C.  CHASE,   A.  M., 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE,  BATES  COLLEGE. 
I  am  convinced  that  "Our  Home"  will  prove  not  only  a  highly  enter- 
taining but  a  most  valuable  work.  It  is  in  every  way  worthy  of  its  beau- 
tiful and  comprehensive  title.  It  not  only  appeals  strongly  to  the  home 
sentiment,  the  maintenance  of  which  is  the  best  guarantee  of  purity  in 
both  individual  and  national  life,  but  it  is  also  a  complete  manual  of  in- 
struction in  regard  to  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  all  the  members 
of  the  home  circle.  Its  forty-two  chapters,  every  one  of  them  dealing 
with  its  subject  in  a  most  admirable  manner,  contain  more  of  wit,  wis- 
dom and  poetry  than  I  have  ever  seen  gathered  into  any  other  book  devo- 
ted to  similar  themes.  It  is  replete  with  instruction  for  both  parents  and 
children,  is  inspiring  to  the  young,  helpful  to  the  middle-aged,  and  con- 
soling to  the  old.  The  author  has  succeeded  to  a  degree  seldom  equalled 
in  combining  good  sense  and  originality.  The  book,  wherever  circulat- 
ed, cannot  fail  to  develop  and  foster  in  its  readers  a  love  for  whatever  is 
"true,  beautiful  and  good."  I  sincerely  believe  that  in  carrying  it  into 
the  homes  of  our  land,  you  will  be  making  a  valuable  contribution  to 
those  moral  and  intellectual  forces  on  whose  predominance  depend  the 
true  welfare  of  our  people,  and  the  permanence  of  our  free  institutions. 
May  it  meet  with  that  reception  from  the  public  to  which,  both  by  reas- 
on of  style  and  contents,  it  is  so  richly  entitled.  You  know  how  ample 
have  been  my  opportunities  for  weighing  the  merits  of  the  work,  and 
you  may  be  assured  that  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  write  these  words 
of  o  )rnmendation. 

REV.  W.  C.  WHITFORD,   A.  M., 

PRESIDENT  MILTON  COLLEGE. 

"Our  Home"  is  truly  a  valuable  work  for  the  fireside.  It  is  full  of 
thoughts,  beautiful  and  grand,  and  its  influence  will  be  only  for  good. 
The  book  should  find  its  way  into  every  family  in  the  land. 

EDWARD  H.   PHELPS, 

EDITOR  OF  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  HOMESTEAD,  THE  LEADING  AGRI- 
CULTURAL JOURNAL  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

I  have  examined  your  new  book,  "Our  Home,"  with  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure.  What  a  mass  of  interesting,  suggestive  and  valuable  reading 
the  author  has  crammed  into  its  pages !  As  the  strength  of  the  nation 
is  in  the  homes  of  its  people,  you  are  doing  good  and  patriotic  work  in 
sending  forth  a  book  which  will  make  every  home  into  wrhich  it  enters 
happier,  purer  and  better.  The  book  is  worthy  of  a  place  in  every  home 
in  America. 

G.  A.  PECKHAM,   A.  M., 

PROF.  OF  GREEK  AND  LATIN,  HIRAM:  COLLEGE,  HIRAM,  OHIO. 
I  have  carefully  examined  "OUR  HOME,"  and  find  it  to  be  a  volume 
•ontaining  many  valuable  suggestions  to  both  young  and  old. 


\\ ,  -.  i 

I  havr  t  rr-c- 

led.  it  \\  ill  In- 
of  ll 

and  useful  lives.     ••  I'h--  -  h<»iu«».M 

.1  \M 
Pi;. 

T  )i:iM'  examined  "<  >i  R  "1  find  «!. 

tre:i  :lid  illl|inrt:ilit    th«-i:  it    II 

written  i:,  •• ;  and  that  tin-  moral  l 

anil  elevating,     lit  '-irf  it  i*  a  j-i^tture  to  r« 

mend  a  work  of  this  cluir 

PASTOR  1  AI.  Li  mi. KAN  <  in  ixn.  W....MI-I:,  OHM. 

Ha  vim;  examined,  briflly,  '•<  »ru  H'>MI  .  <,r  :  h, 

I  believe  it  \\ill  iin  •  nit  in  UK- home  training  of  the  family,  and 

tkould  be  placetl  in  tho  li^rnry  of  •  <•• 

i;i:v.  JAB,  BLAH  IN.  A.  M.. 

•  EK    AM)    I. Ill  'Mlo. 

A  hasty  glance  at  the  hook  ftititl.-d  ••<>[  K  HUMI."  revealed  - 
sontiincn;  :pon   dilVcrmi    :  fa  well-oni'-r.-d  I 

Thrir  iioru^al  in  the  attractive  inak«-np  of  the  voluino  in  wh'n-h  they  ar« 
contained  may  serve  to  \\hilo,  away  some  moments  of  leisure  in  a  profit- 
able man: 

M.   I».    HAWKS,   I>.  D..  I.I,.  D., 
PABV08  UN    M.   I..  »  n;  •  u,  JACKSONVII.I.K,  1: 

I  havo  exatninod  ••()!  it  H»MK"  -iithViently  to  -ati<fy  myself  that  it  is 
a  very  \vortliy  hook.  Kxeellenr  in  matter  and  style,  pure,  exalting  and 
beautiful  in  its  purpose  and  scope,  I  cheerfully  commend  it. 

i;i;v.  w.  A.  SMI  in. 

[•\-'I"K    M.    K.    <'lirK<-H,    I.AD.KiA.    INI>. 

Having  oxamined  k-Ot  K  II- AH  uim^nd  i- 

thy  of  ;i  place  in  every  family.     Certainly  tin-  u  -our 

children  and  tl.  .-narantt t  th'-ir  luiui''  BOOOeM  i-  tli.  '    ;)p 

atnnxpliere  of  lion  .     The  aim  ol  tl.i-  i  at  a 

model  home  i>,  how  to  have  it  and  how  to  ciijov  it. 

i:i:v.  Timi;- 

r\  '  i 

lilies';  I  lie  deceived  in  u(»t  n  IFoMi .."  it  i-  c:il.  -nlateil  io  do  g 
aj'pears  a  '-thi  /\ ."  and  re:nN  a-  though  it  would  pr-- 

forever"    to    t!n>-c    \slio    hi-.-d    it-;    direct  io:. 
homes,  and  a  brighter  future  , 

PROF.  JOHN  (I. ARK  JMDI'ATH, 
THE  HISTORIAN,  Asnn:Y  I'MVI .I:-ITV.  INL. 

I  have  examined  tho  «ork  entitled  ''Ofu  II'  >MI  "  and  find  it  of  an  ex- 
cellent moral  tone,  and  \\ell  calculated  to  improve  the  tastes  of  thoM 
who  read  by  that  much-neglected  place  called  the  hearth-stone.  J  trust 
that  the  work  will  receive  from  the  public  such  substantial  recognition 
as  its  merits  deserve. 


G.  F.  FOSTER,    A.  M., 

PROF.  OF  HISTORY,  SOUTHERN  ILLINOIS  NORMAL  UNIVERSITY. 

I  have  carefully  examined  "OUR  HOME,"  and  find  it  a  most  admira- 
ble book.  The  language  is  chaste  and  eloquent.  I  commend  it 
to  all  parents  who  desire  to  place  in  the  hands  of  their  children  a  book 
which  will  give  them  correct  views  of  life. 

GEO.  D.  B.  PEPPER,  D.  D.,  LL.  D., 

PRESIDENT  OF  COLBY  UNIVERSITY. 

I  have  looked  through  "OUR  HOME,"  and  judge  it  to  be  one  of  the 
best  books  of  its  class.  It  treats  important  subjects  in  a  sensible  and 
pleasant  way. 

REV.  E.  X.  SMITH, 

PASTOR  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH,  WATERVILLE,  ME. 
I  have  examined  uOuR  HOME,"  and  find  it  an  excellent  work  in 
every  respect.     A  healthy  religious  tone  pervades  it,  and  it  is  replete 
with  enlightened  and  practical  advice.    I  can  recommend  it  as  a  book 
that  deserves  to  go  into  every  household. 

ROBERT  ALLYN,  A.  M., 

PRESIDENT  SOUTHERN  ILLINOIS  NORMAL  UNIVERSITY. 
I  have  examined  "OUR  HOME,"  and  consider  it  a  valuable  work,  full 
of  excellent  advice  on  excellent  topics  useful  to  all.    I  trust  it  may  have 
a  large  sale. 

REV.  WILLIAM  H.  SPENCER, 
PASTOR  BAPTIST  CHURCH,  WATERVILLE,  ME. 
A  brief  examination  of  "OUR  HOME"  has  shown  me  that  it  abounds 
In  useful  and  practical  suggestions  on  self -culture  and  home  culture. 

REV.  A.  M.  PATTLE, 

PRESIDING  ELDER  M.  E.  CHURCH,  WATERVILLE,  ME. 
I  have  examined  "OUR  HOME"  with  care,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  rec- 
ommend it  as  a  very  desirable  work.    The  excellent  moral  tone,  the 
broad  scope  of  the  author,  combined  with  the  fine  mechanical  execution, 
make  it  of  more  than  common  interest. 

REV.  R.  E.  McBRIDE,   A.  M., 

PRINCIPAL  WESTERN  RESERVE  SEMINARY,  FARMINGTON,  OHIO. 
I  have  examined  with  care  the  book  "OUR  HOME,"  and  find  it  well 
written — superior  in  style — and  containing  many  useful  suggestions  on 
home  life  and  duties,  and  advice  that  is  sound  and  wholesome. 

REV.  C.  E.  MANCHESTER, 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  BURTON,  OHIO. 

I  have  examined  with  great  pleasure  "OUR  HOME,"  and  find  it  to  be 
a  wise  and  thoughtful  work,  containing  many  rare  and  beautiful  reflec- 
tions, as  well  as  choice  selections  from  noted  writers.  Such  a  work, 
carefully  studied,  can  hardly  fail  to  produce  a  harvest  of  good  things, 
where  greatly  needed — in  our  homes. 

REV.  B.  S.  DEAN,    A.  M., 
VICE  PRESIDENT  HIRAM  COLLEGE,  HIRAM,  OHIO. 
After  examining  "OuR  HOME"  I  am  sure  every  home  would  be  e» 
riched  by  its  attentive  perusal. 


wi;  .  A.  M., 

PROF  NAT' L   SCIENCE,  UA  HSITT,  OHIO. 

"There  i§  n«  .-   a  sentiment   tha-  »tid 

am 

certain,  \\  !  -entluu-nt  is   clrvatinf , 

and  1  am  pleased  with  its  teachings. 

REV  A.  ii.  ro 

TOB  CONGREGATIONAL  (in  i:<  II.  BKKF.A,  Oil;  • 

After  examining  the  volume   entitled    "Our  H»m> •"    I     < 
It      to     the    reit'liiii,'      puMi  :;d      purpo.r      of      tlii» 

book,  and  the  main  prim  •  uli-ate-  .  »\;   and 

DO  one  \\hose  iiiiiul  i>*  OJM-H  l«>  truth,  h  any 

of  the  details,  ran  read  th»-  u  nrk  «  itli 

.mi  and  r<VMM-trurti<ni,  -      I  j-ful 

to  that  end. 

REV.  A.  J.  I.Y< 
PA^TOH  M.  E.  <  :  no. 

The  book,  "Our  1  and    de. 

wrves  a  laree  sxltl-     It  to  written  wwh  <  1  of 

Interest  ana  helpful                 fry  ineinhei of  th.  icle» 

onl-i  fence,"  "Manners  at  11'Min-"  ainl  "Dutie-i  of  Home,"  ur« 
of  th  '.vnrtli  the  [.lire  of  (lit-  hook. 

A.  sriirYLEi:.  LL.  D., 
PRES.  BALDWIN  t'MVF.i:.-iTY,  UIKI.A.  OIIIM. 

I  havo  examined  the  hook  entitled  "<  >ur  Ilom-  vmch  pleased^ 

lioth  \\  ith  its  api'earaiici' and  it-*  contci.;-.  li  i-  a  honk  that  ought  to 
find  a  ready  sale  and  a  place  in  our  home  liluaries.  Jn  range  of  topic* 
it  i?  eomj.rVhensive  and  in.-tnu-ti 

REV  ALFRED  O^VEN,  D.  D., 
PRESIDENT  DEXISON  UNIVERSITY,  GICAXVILLE,  OHIO. 

I  have  examined  '-Our  Home."  and  find  it  full  of  practical  and  useful 
suggestions.  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  fail  to  he  useful  to  those  who  read 
it. 

REV.  LESTER  L.  POTTI 

PASTOR  FIRST  BAITI.-T  rumen,  SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 

I  have  read  with  great  interest  the  l.i  .f  "Our  Hume"  and  will 

certainly  complete  it.      I  <>mmeiui   th*-   hook   heartily,   and 

•toce Ion* common  :id  hook  n<>tic«->  an-  often  thrown  a- 

will  simply  eav  that  "Our  Home"  i-  \vunhv  of  n  |ila  :y  house* 

hold. 

REV.  E.  B.  THOiir- 
PASTOR  SECOND  PRESBTTERLLN  Cnrnrn.  C  P.A  LSD. 

As  far  a  ;  ad  time  to  examine  "Our  Rome,"  I  can  recommend 

It  as  of  great  value  and  calculated  to  do  good. 


FROM  PRESIDENT  AND  FACULTY 
OF  BATES  COLLEGE,  LEWISTON,  ME. 

"OUR  HOME,  or  The  Key  to  A  Nobler  Life,"  is  an  interesting  and 
helpful  book.  It  exhibits  in  a  forcible  yet  attractive  manner  the  vari- 
ous duties  and  relations  of  home  life.  The  author's  method  is  practical 
and  sensible,  his  thought  clear  and  suggestive  and  his  style  entertaining. 
His  work  deserves  a  generous  welcome  from  all  who  value  at  its  true 
fforth  a  hat>py  and  well-ordered  home. 

O.  B.  CHENEY,  D.  D.,  Pres.  B.  F.  HATES,  D.  D. 

G.  C.  CHASE,  A.  M.  J.  II.  RAND,  A.  M. 

J.  Y.  STANTON,  A.  M.  T.  L.  ANGELL,  A.  M. 

SARAH  A.   BARNES, 

PROF.  ENGLISH  LITERATURE,  MCKENDELL  COLLEGE,  LEBANON,   ILL. 
After  a  cursory  examination  of  "OUR  HOME"  I  am  glad  to  say  that 
from  its  pure  moral  tone,  elevated  sentiment,  sensible  and  practical  sug- 
gestions, it  is  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  libraries  of  all  our  people. 

W.  BRINKERHOFF,  A.  M., 
PRESIDENT  HOPEDALE  NORMAL  COLLEGE,  OHIO. 
I  am  very  favorably  impressed  with  "OuR  HOME."     Its  style  Is 
clear,  simple  and  concise,  and  in  matter  very  interesting  and  instructive. 

CYRUS  McNEELY, 

FOUNDER  HOPEDALE  NORMAL  COLLEGE,  OHIO. 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  commending  this  book  to  the  public.  The  ti- 
tle "OUR  HOME"  is  significant  of  its  character  and  of  its  aim  in  the  im- 
provement and  development  of  society.    I  should  like  to  see  it  in  the  li- 
brary of  every  family  in  the  community. 

REV.  I.  VILLARS, 

PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  CHAMPAIGN,  ILL. 

I  have  examined  "OUR  HOME,"  and  regard  it  a  very  desirable  book 
for  the  family.  I  hail  with  delight  the  advent  of  pure  books  in  our 
homes.  This  is  a  work  the  very  contents  of  which  makes  us  hungry  to 
read.  May  the  agent  succeed  in  placing  a  copy  in  every  home. 

J.  F.  M.  GATCH,  A.  M., 

PRINCIPAL  CENTRAL  INDIANA  NORMAL  SCHOOL,  LADOGA. 
Let  every  one  who  can  afford  it  buy  a  copy  of  "OUR  HOME,"  not 
merely  to  add  one  more  book  to  the  shelves,  but  to  read  and  profit  by 
the  gems  of  thought  and  advice  within  its  lids. 

g^^The  above  is  endorsed  by  the  entire  faculty. 

REV.  GEO.   JEFFERIES, 
PASTOR  PRIM.  M.  E.  CHURCH,    NILES,  OHIO. 
It  gives  me  pleasure  to  recommend  "Ouu  HOME."    It  is  a  wonder- 
ful book,  complete  in  every  way,  and  a  grand  idea  admirably  made  a  re- 
ality.   It  is  an  invaluable  work  for  families,  teachers  and  all  who  love 
to  read  and  understand  the  duties  of  home.    I  anticipate  decided  success 
for  the  work. 


PASTOR  M.  I 

I  hrr  >e,  io» 

ietd, 

Jam 

mending  it  to  nil  who  may  wUh  a  go-   .  <•«. 

\ML1.IA 
• 

I  have  e*ami:  • 
•ay  that  I  h«-H.-ve  it  would  be 11  valuat-. 

-  cuutains  a  vast  amount  ••!  heipfu. 
ant. 

with  us  in  our  homes,  goes  with  u»  in  our  sorrows  a*  well  M  i: 
joys,  and  finally  leads  us  to  view  our  home  in  H« .. 

Mi.  -MITII. 

OOU,   HA  ND. 

From  the  cur-                   nation  that  I  1  ••  of  the   book, 

Home,"  I  believe  it  to  he  u  TKI  i  v  VALIAI  .tud  erne  that  ' 
to  have  a  place  in  KVKKY  LIHKAUY. 

I:KV.  o.  N.  iiAi:r>iini;x,  LI..  D., 

PKK*.  M  e.  ( »ni". 

I  have  carefully  examined  '-Our  Home"  ami  find  it  the  beat  book  of 
th«  kind  that  haa  come  to  my  knowledge.     In  matter  and  style  it   i< 
cellent.    I  shall  not  only  he  glad  to  road  it  niv.-df,  hut  also  have  my  wif« 
and  children  reud  it.  and  rccoiium-nd  it  to  other  families.     The  book   it 
well  gott«n  up  and  its  price  is  low. 

REV.  i-:.  A.  i  A\M:K,  D.  DM 

PREJ.  ILLINOIS  COI.LKCE,  JACK-'  ILL. 

The  body  of  Howard  Payne  ha>  just  been  brought  back  to  os  for 
final  burial.  America  c-ould'not  let  u  foreign  land  continue  to  be  th« 
last  resting-place  of  him  who  wrote  "B  he  fortv- 

three  chapter-^  of  ••<  )ur  Home"  are  so  many  intions   of  the   old 

song.    As  a  book  it  i.s  most  wholesome  reading  for  every  family.     May 
it  have  a  wide  circulation. 

REV.  E.  A.  (  AKU-I.E, 
PASTOR  Mi  :I.LE,  ILL. 

I  have  examined  "Our  Home''  and  heartily  recommend  the  work  u 
being  worth  a  hundred  fold  more  than  its  cost  to  every  family. 

REV.  E.  PI. 

M.  i:    •  u.    MT  VKUNON.  OHIO. 

"Our  Home"  lent  work  for  family  reading,  covering  a  va- 

riety of  topics  and  expressing  choice  -  .  iul  principles. 

ER, 

PASTOR  I'M  <><  K.  OHIO. 

Having  ca'vfully  exam"  I  pronounce  it  th«  best 

work  of  the  kind  -vor  come  under  mv  'ion.     The  on« 

who  reads  it  cann<-  ':>t  made  w  -T  and  happier.    I  wiih 

that  a  CODV  could  be  placed  in  every  home  in  our  land. 


REV.  J.  M.  DAVIES, 

PASTOR  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH,  XILES,  OHIO. 
It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  say  a  good  word  for  "Our  Home."    It 
is  a  book  well  qualified  to  aid  in  rendering  home  attractive.    The  me- 
chanical execution  is  elegant,  while  the  thought  is  fresh  and  the  range 
of  topics  sufficiently  varied  to  sustain  the  interest  throughout. 

REV.  E.  P.  RAXKIX, 

PASTOR  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH,  MORRISONVILLE,  ILL. 
"Our  Home''  is  a  very  worthy  book,  its  subjects  most  important. 
"The  home,"  says  Ex-Gov.  Oglesby,  "is  the  most  important  factor  in 
our  politics."  Xo  danger  need  be  feared  when  the  homes  of  our  coun- 
try are  what  they  ought  to  be.  Every  effort  to  solve  the  problem  of 
making  our  homes  more  pure,  helpful  and  good  deserves  encouragement. 

REV.  IRA  G.  SPRAGUE, 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  AUBURN,  ME. 

I  have  examined  "Our  Home"  with  pleasure  and  profit.  It  is  pure 
in  its  design  and  practical  in  its  suggestions.  Both  parents  and  children 
will  be  led  to  a  purer  and  happier  life  by  its  perusal.  It  is  worthy  of  a 
place  in  every  home. 

REV.  J.  K.  WHEELER, 

PASTOR  FISRT  BAPTIST  CHURCH,  TERRE  HAUTIVIND. 
I  have  examined  the  book  entitled  "Our  Home"  and  think  it  well 
adapted  to  the  family  needs ;  a  good  book  for  parents  and  children  to 
read. 

REV.  E.  J.  LAMPTOX,  A.  M., 
CHRISTIAN  MINISTER  OF  CAMP  POINT,  ILL. 

I  have  examined  with  some  care  the  book  entitled  "Our  Home,"  and 
would  say  that  I  find  it  rich  in  thought,  beautifully  expressed.  Every 
point  is  stated  clearly  so  the  reader  can't  fail  to  understand  the  author. 
And  as  a  book  for  the  family  I  most  cheerfully  commend  it. 

REV.  J.  F.  MILLER, 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,   XEWARK,  OHIO. 

The  contents  of  "Our  Home"  presents  at  once  a  richness  in  variety 
and  matter  which  attracts  the  mind  and  at  once  leads  to  a  desire  to  inves- 
tigate and  ascertain  the  value  of  the  contents,  which  is  worthy  of  being 
a  "companion"  in  every  home. 

REV.  H.  A.  THOMPSOX,  D.  D., 
PROF.  OF  MENTAL  AND  MORAL  SCIENCE,  PRESIDENT  OTTERBEIN 

UNIVERSITY,  WESTERVILLE,  OHIO. 

"Our  Home"  is  an  earnest,  discreet  and  intelligent  presentation  of 
the  value  of  homo  life  and  the  influences  that  make  or  mar  it.  It  is  ^ell- 
written,  safe  and  prudent  in  its  teachings,  and  full  of  valuable  lessons 
for  both  old  and  young.  It  is  a  book  which  every  one  may  read  with 
profit,  for  all  are  interested  in  the  homes  they  now  have  or  those  they 
expect  to  make.  It  is  one  of  the  very  best  books  on  rhi>  'subject,  which  [ 
have  ever  been  privileged  to  read.  I  most  heartily  commend  it  to  the 
public. 


PUI>II>KM   IXKIANA  STA  IT.  N'.liMAI.  >«  M-M,|..  TflKKK  IlAflK. 

.- 

• 

• 
-I»i:    M.    : 

ictical  and 

i 

i:i>.  M.  ;  ,IK». 

With  plt-asim-  I  recommend  "<  >ur  Me.:  \*  a  book 


'•'  resist  temptation  and  I K'cotne  useful  members  of  so- 

K.   !>..    1.  .ilo. 

rinim:  the  hill  • 
what  tin  i  lieu  ..r  -avory   to  pla>  • 

:.ly   tast«-(l.    \i\i- 
itli  tin-  tl  .  <li«li.  tl, 

linn-nil  all  my  frii-ii'i- 

srholarly  author  mii-t  !>••  mo-t  happy  in  prr>«-ntin^  to  the  reader  souie- 
.  iin^  and  in\vanlly  dijr<--- 

Fi:n.M  mi:  i.i.v.  kZETTB. 

in  these  days  «:  an'  and  < 

to  fli.  a    li-avi-n 

earn  -<•  and  a  hi^li  aim  in 

ity.     In  takiiii:  Honn-  and  HOHH-  training  f-«r  lii-  •   has 

gone  to  ti  1  life.  th«-  fountain  of  lh  il 

ward  through  lift-  in  the  dip 
The  .ramount  importan<  • 

»en  appreciation  of  that  fact  throughout  \\\<  work,    li 
thomo  with  practical  results  in  view,  and  not  for  the  -:ik«-  o 

MtaliMii  with  ••• 
more  iil.l.-  in  our  homes. 

iMe— a  place  from  \\hi.  : 

lie  home   ; 

book.  help  forv. 

h.ii 't 'i')'  -»    vid  *o  inovli  under! 'i- 

and  ' 

and  • 
in  tl; 


DR.  S.  W.   SEYLER, 
PROPRIETOR  NILES  (Omo)  SANITARIAN. 

"Our  Home"  should  find  a  place  in  every  family  library  in  our  land. 
The  chapter  on  "Economy  of  Home"  is  well  worth  the  price  of  the  en- 
tire book. 

A.  B.  SLUTZMAN, 

SUPERINTENDENT  OF  SCHOOLS,  KENT,  OHIO. 

"Our  Home"  merits  an  extensive  sale.  Every  parent,  son  and 
daughter  should  read  it.  Next  to  the  Bible  this  book  should  form  a  part 
of  the  home  library. 

REV.  ANDREW  WILSON, 
PASTOR  UNIVERSALIST  CHURCH,  RAVENNA,  OHIO. 
I  heartily  recommend  "Our  Home"  to  the  earnest  attention  of  all  in- 
terested in  making  the  home  atmosphere  and  life,  purer  and  happier. 

REV.  M.  N.   SMITH, 
PASTOR  BAPTIST  CHURCH,  KENT,  OHIO. 

Home  influence  is  all  powerful  in  molding  character.  I  commend 
"Our  Home"  as  a  valuable  assistant  in  this  direction,  and  should  be  in 
every  family. 

HON.  O.  S.  ROCKWELL, 

MAYOR  OF  KENT,  OHIO. 

I  consider  "Our  Home"  a  most  excellent  work  and  commend  it  heart- 
ily to  every  household. 

REV.  J.  F.  JOHNSON,  NASHUA,  N.  H. 

I  cheerfully  commend  "Our  Home,*' believing  it  will  yield  mucfc 
more  than  its  cost  in  sound  and  valuable  information. 

REV.  H.  C.  PARKER,  NASHUA,  N.  H. 

I  find  "Our  Home"  abounding  in  timely  and  practical  information. 
It  is  written  in  charming  style.  It  will  do  much  towards  making  our 
homes  the  purest,  happiest  and  sweetest  spots  on  earth. 

REV.  W.  B.  TOOLMIN, 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  LEOMINSTER,  MASS. 

Having  examined  "Our  Home,"  I  believe  it  a  most  excellent  book 
and  valuable  for  the  family. 

REV.  H.  P.  CUTTING, 
PASTOR  CONGREGATIONAL,  CHURCH,  NORTH  LEOMINSTER,  MASS. 

I  believe  "Our  Home"  to  be  true  in  spirit,  and  eminently  designed 
to  make  our  home  life  better  and  happier. 

REV.  F.  G.  RAINEY, 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  DALTON,  MASS. 

I  have  examined  "Our  Home,"  and  find  it  a  treatise  of  merit.  The 
Ideas  of  the  author  are  to  be  trusted  because  right  and  pure  in  sentiment. 
In  the  influences  of  home  life  lies  our  hope  as  a  nation.  I  can  commend 
the  book  as  worthy  a  place  in  every  household. 


••• 


oo  k,  and 


•ral    pun! 
by  t; 
enct- 

."  and  \\«-  an-  g 
training  of  our  little  men  and  women  i  take 

i  thrm  the  good  ai;<i 
the  *vil,  I,M\.-  tln'in  to  _ 

lit  older  people  eroan. 
pends  upon  tl. 

•  ly  admit  while  they  go 


old  giant  i  i,  whom  .John  iiunyaii   no  il"iiht   r«-fcrrcU   to   under 

the  i.  nit  I>i'<i>air  \\h=i  livi-il  i:. 

"Books  for  the  Home," 

n>;  ^laiinors    at    Horn-. 


po 

Homo,    "oavi-n  our     oiiif. 

tho  large  field  the  •• 

for  himself.     ' 

to-day  covers  the  j 

much  to  make  i"-o] 


••  Trials  of 
trrs  to   show 
;>eak 

--sat  their  meals 


makes  them  djrspe  i  <Adldren  are  growii  h  a 

B  for  the  nostrums  with  which  the 

world  will  he  full   c»f  drunk  . 

and     inborn    nobility    n<>\\!. 

as  in  the  rorr-  -^l.'ii  too    oft.-n    for^-t    that    : 

an}*  special  duties   to   lln-ir   •  1  yet  tli 

iiy  wife  but  ov 
grva 

men  hav  I  useless  1 

pound  of  vino  arid  la/ine--;  than  by  any  other  OD< 

\  ritten  a  ; 

in  Thieh  i'-n  whoiA 

be-'ii  direetoii  to   th»-se    - 

new  ideas  hut  in  the  fact  that  our  voting  IIP  n  are  beirjnni: 
t)ie  ri^'bt  direction—  tliat  tli-  .  :ie  home  as  the  great  6' 

in  which  tlu-  I. 

It  is  much  for  nt  out  a  book 

men  and  worn-  rhinkMr. 

hook  wii;  long 

•inre.  "At  my  tim«-  -   me 

II   th« 
hijrbi  - 


- 

the 


11 

REV.  E.  A.  BRINDLEY,  D.  D., 

PASTOR  METHODIST  PROTESTANT  CHURCH,  YOUNGSTOTTN,  OHIO. 
Were  there  no  other  indorsement  of  this  book,  "Our  Home,"  we 
should  consider  the  letter  of  introduction  by  Mrs.  Garfleld  a  sufficient 
guarantee  of  its  excellence.  It  is  a  work  that  should  find  its  way  into 
every  family,  and  perused  and  be  studied  by  every  mother  anxious  for  the 
welfare  of  her  children.  Its  style  is  simple,  chaste  and  eloquent,  with 
the  power  of  truth  enforcing  every  line  and  convincing  every  unpreju- 
diced mind.  Next  to  the  Bible  this  work  should  be  the  treasure  of  every 
household. 

REV.  J.  A.  SNODGRASS,  D.  D., 
PASTOR  BAPTIST  CHURCH,  YOUNGSTOWN,  OHIO. 
Having  carefully  and  with  no  little  interest  examined  the  book  "Our 
Home,"  I  take  great  pleasure  hi  recommending  it  to  parents  as  the  very 
best  book,  of  human  origin,  I  know  of  for  the  family  circle.     J  wish 
every  family  in  which  I  have  any  influence  could  have  a  copy. 

REV.  A.  M.  HILLS,  D.  D., 

PASTOR  FIRST  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH,  RAVENNA,  OHIO. 
I  have  examined  "Our  Home"  by  C.  E.  Sargent,  with  Introduction 
by  Mrs.  Garfield,  and  find  it  full  of  interesting  thoughts  and  valuable 
suggestions.  It  will  elevate  our  home  life  and  save  our  homes  from 
neglect  and  dangers.  I  wish  for  this  book  a  wide  circulation  and  in- 
fluence. 

REV.  DANIEL  H.  EVANS,  D.  D., 
PASTOR  FIRST  PRES.  CHURCH,  YOUXGSTOWN,  OHIO. 
After  examining  "Our  Home,"  I  am  happy  to  say  that  it  is  marked 
with  wholesome  counsel  and  written  in  a  vigorous  and  interesting  style. 
Its  presence  would  be  a  treasure  in  every  family.     Light  shines  from 
this  work  upon  the  parental  pathway  which  is  sometimes  wrapt  hi  un- 
certainty. 

REV.  J.  L.  DAVIES,  D.  D., 

PASTOR  SECOND  CONG.  CHURCH,  YOUNGSTOWN,  OHIO. 
After  an  examination  of  "Our  Home,"  I  cheerfully  commend  it  as  * 
Aook  that  cannot  fail  to  make  home  life  pleasanter,  happier  and  nobler 
for  those  who  will  read  its  pages  and  heed  its  teachings. 

REV.  WALTER  QUINCY  SCOTT,  D.  D., 
PRESIDENT  OHIO  STATE  UNIVERSITY,  COLUMBUS. 
"Our  Home"  is  a  good  book  to  be  kept  ha  the  sitting  room. 

REV.  C.  V.  WILSON,  D.  D., 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  YOUNGSTOWN,  OHIO. 

I  have  given  "Our  Home"  a  careful  examination,  and  would  say  that 
It  seems  to  be  an  admirable  work,  calculated  to  do  much  good.  An  ex- 
tensive circulation  and  careful  reading  cannot  fail  to  have  its  influence 
upon  our  homes.  I  most  heartily  commend  the  work  to  all. 

REV.  SAMUEL  G.  HAIR,  D.  D., 

PASTOR  BELMONT  AVE.  PRES.  CHURCH,  YOUNGSTOWN,  OHIO. 
With  pleasure  I  commend  this  book,  "Our  Home."     Having  exam- 
ined its  pages  I  find  that  it  will  be  a  valuable  help  to  parents,  especially, 
in  securing  a  well  ordered  home.    In  the  teachings  of  this  book  we  will 
find  truly  "The  Key  to  a  Nobler  Life,"  and  it  is  worthy  of  a  place  in 
home. 


13 

PASTOR  <  >oEroRT, 

I  heartily  n.  -'  to  every  family  and  hop*  fc  win 

iod  \i  +  wu . 

.II, 

,  ILL. 

I  take  pi*  ir  Home.*'     It  U  worth/  A 

plate 

41Ot:  i'-jjant  binding,   but 

above  all  i   or- 

Dauieut  In.  culture. 

DOS  I'.  <  ROOKS,  l».  !>., 

PA  .   .  :  U 

I  take  pr-  iiii'-ii'ilii^   "'Mir  Home,"  and  hope  It 

wfll  liud  its  way  into  every  family  in  our  laud. 

I:KV.  JOHN-  i.KKrM-:i:,  i>.  P., 
PAI>:  .  ILL. 

Our  Horn*"  is  imt  p«-iitinn-ntal  hut  practical  and  InstructiTe  and 
•  t<>  !>«•  in  .-very  hmne,  where  it  should  be  read  and  studied  by  ercry 
>er  of  the  family. 

IIKV.  O.  If.  (  I. ARK,  D.  D., 

Pit!  KRKXCE. 

^  hat.-v.T  lit-;;  which   ino-t   nearly   ap- 

proa'  .-t  he  al \\ays  welcnui^.      I  can  say  in  hehalf  «.f  • 

Home"  that  its  ten-  i  true  un-i  -;1  of  inculca- 

ting those  virtue*  that  make  huuie  the  dearest  t>i>ot  on  earth. 

REV.  W.  II.  IIILI.IS,  D.  D., 

ILL. 

with  pleasurp  that  I    r >;nn  •  -  book  entitled 

"Our  Ho:  A- books    would    1>« 

more  appropriate  as  a  p* 

f  thf  w«>: 

•>!«,"  art 

:.illy  important  in  thi-  (i:.  .    but 

'    our 

land  will  till  :  .read 

the  light  of  joy  iu  many  fani 

RE? 

rouLrTi;  rrs,  ILL. 

Uav1n<r  oarofi:  vr  5t  to  be  an  excel- 

lent book, and  heartily  recommend  it  to  the  homes  of  n. 


IS 

GEORGE  P.  BROYTN,  A.  M., 

PRESIDENT  or  INDIANA  STATE  NORMAL. 

*Ou»  HOME"  is  a  work  noblj  conceived  and  admirably  executed.  It  i» 
Mid  to  be  a  young  man's  ideal  of  home.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  every  yonng  man 
and  young  woman  in  our  land  may  become  imbued  with  its  sentiments.  It  should 
be  in  every  horn*  where  there  are  young  people. 

REV.  G10RGE  ALCORN, 
PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  HUMMELSTOWK,  PA. 

Having  examined  "  OUR  HOME,"  I  feel  justified  in  commending  it  as  a  book 
designed  to  do  good.  Everything  that  tends  to  inspire  noHe  purposes,  and  stimu- 
late the  mind  and  heart  in  the  pursuit  of  all  that  is  hone.  ,,  pure,  and  lovely,  is  a 
blessing.  We  feel  satisfied  that  this  book  is  calculated  to  do  all  this,  and  recom- 
mend it  to  all  lovers  of  pure  literature,  and  consider  it  worthy  of  a  place  in  every 
home. 

REV.  THOS.  HILL,  D.D..LL.D., 
EX-PRESIDENT  OF  HABVARD  COLLEGE. 

I  have  examined  "  OUR  HOME  "  with  some  care.  There  can  b«  no  question 
that  the  book  possesses  much  merit.  The  style  is  attractive,  the  matter  good, 
and  ita  introduction  will  prove  a  benefit  to  every  home. 

S.  G.  BURNEY,  D.  D.,  LL.D., 

PROFESSOR  or  THEOLOGY,  CUMBERLAND  UNIVERSITY,  LEBANON,  T«NN. 
"  OUR  HOME  "  is  a  good  book.    This  is  saying  a  great  deal.    It  suite  all 
classes  and  well  deserves  a  place  in  every  family  library.  • 

J.  D.  KIRKPATRICK,  D.  D., 

PROFESSOR  or  CHURCH  HISTORY,  CUMBERLAND  UNIVERSITY,  LEBANON,  TEHX 
I  have  had  time  to  give  "  OUR  HOMB  "  a  hasty  examination,  but  a  very  pleas- 
ant one.  It  is  indeed  a  book  for  the  home,  and  I  wish  it  could  be  in  every  family 
in  our  land.  It  is  well  written,  the  thoughts  good,  the  language  pare  and 
chaste,  the  style  pleasant  and  attractive.  I  cordially  recommend  the  book  to  all, 
and  no  parent,  son,  or  daughter  can  read  it  carefully  without  being  benefited. 

J.  I.  D.  HINDS,  A.  M.,  PH.D., 

PxorsMOR  OF  CHEMISTRY,  CUMBERLAND  UNIVERSITY. 
I  have  examined  "  OUR  HOME  "  and  find  it  an  exceedingly  valuable  book. 
It  can  but  carry  a  blessing  into  every  home  in  which  it  finds  a  place. 

R.  V.  FOSTER,  A.  M., 

PROFESSOR  OF  HEBREW,  CUMBERLAND  UNITERSITT. 
*  OUR  HOME  "  is  a  good  book.    Its  sentiment  is  excellent,  though  it  !•  not 
exclusively  a  "  sentimental "  book.    If  you  buy  a  copy  and  read  it  carefully  yo« 
ud  your  home  will  be  the  better  for  it. 

REV.  J.  J.  PORTER, 
PASTOB  or  BAPTIST  CHURCH,  LEBANON,  TENN.,  A.ND  EBITOR  or 

THE  MISSIONARY  BAPTIST. 

I  have  reviewed  "  Ous  HOME  "  and  it  affords  me  pleasure  to  commend  it  to 
the  homes  of  all  our  people.  All  mothers  should  be  acquainted  with  its  practical 
truths.  It  J  cue  booi  &>i  slw  jouav;  at  well  <w  to  she  3**. 


M 

•D, 
PA.«: 

I  regard  tin1  '   tht 

-. 

wrre 

:m<l  worthy  a  place  in 
all  our  borne*. 

I>.  I'.. 
I'A-KM:  \\  A~  :n  i:«'ii.   I  H. 

I  have  -  a«  A 

remarkable  book.     It  d«-ai-  \\  ith  •  ••   and  ad> 

;ie  of  the  l>f-t  thought  tha:  < 

luinou  st-usc  and  It. 

apon  that  integrity  oi  heart  and  life  which  alone  can  make  our  home* 
attractive  and  helpful. 

»RD, 

Ki>rroR  Moi;  II. 

I  take  pleasure  in  commending  the  excellent  work  entitled  "Our 
Home." 

i:i:v.  r.  H.  I-ANIKI 

PASTOK  •  •     <  in  K. n.  r. .P.TI.AM.,  ME. 

I  havo  r.-ail  --our  HHHK-"  \\  f  all  our  homes  cou.'d 

catch  its  spiri:  •<!  wmilii  .  •  >:i .•  .     I.  ter  la  full  of    • 

mon  sense,  and  wisdom  beams  from  every  page. 

i:i-;v.  A.  H.  uKi'.nr.  D.  D., 

:TLAND,  Mi  . 

The  book  boarinjr  thr-  -  *  Is  an  able  pro- 

duction, thoughtful  iiiiii 

literary  .«tylf  i- rxct-llciit.     It  cannot  lit-lp   making  the  home  what  it 
should  be:  the  nursery  of  all  noble  minds  and  pun-  lives. 

V.  \v.  ];.  Tor  I. MIX. 

M.  r  i.vss. 

"ir  Homo"  is  a  work  of  great  merit,  and  »upi-ii<T  to  anything  of  the 
kind  before  published,  to  my  knowledge. 

I:K\  M.  imwi:.-]..  i... 

TASS. 

I  have  PTainiiH-d  ••<  »ur  t  to  be  a  most  excellent  book 

and  invaluable  for  every  h»me. 

Fi:«»M  THIIKK  AUI.K  DiVIN!  MIDVKH.  MA 

We  heartily  coniniend  "On.  iij?  a  work  of  great  value  and 

worthy  of  a  p.  ill  aid  all  who  read  it,  to  the 

attainment  of  that  true  culture  which  mark  a  gentleman  or  a  la 

KKV.  J.  H.  TWMMKI.Y.  It.  D..  MMH--I. 

KKV.   LAWHKNTK   I'UKI.l'-.   I ».    !>..  « '•  -NGUEGAT1ONAL 

REV.  J.  C.  HKWI.E1T.   I'.  D., 


15 

REV.  X.  EDWARDS, 

PASTOR  M.  E.  CHURCH,  NAUGATUCK,  CONN. 

I  have  read  "Our  Home"  with  much  interest  and  profit.  It  deserves  a 
place  in  every  home,  and  I  hope  it  will  have  a  wide  circulation. 

REV.  J.  G.  BURGESS,  D.  D., 

WATERBURY,  CONN. 

"Our  Home"  is  a  work  of  rare  worth  and  literary  merit,  and  deserves  ft 
large  sale. 

REV.  D.  L.  R.  LIBBY,  D.  D., 

NEW  BRITAIN,  CONN. 

I  take  pleasure  in  commending  "Our  Home."  It  is  a  grand  book  for  the 
home,  and  will  delight  old  and  young. 

REV.  GEO.  P.  MAINS, 
M.  E.  CHURCH,  WATERBURY,  CONN. 

I  have  examined  "Our  Home"  and  find  it  a  wholesome  and  indeed  help- 
ful volume. 

REV.  JOSEPH  ANDERSON,  D.  D., 
PASTOR  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH,  WATERBURY,  CONN. 
It  is  becoming  more  and  more  evident  that  the  home  is  a  factor  of  cen- 
tral importance  in  our  social  and  national  life.  One  of  the  great  questions 
with  thoughtful  men,  is,  how  to  protect  it  from  the  evils  which  beset  it, 
and  to  develop  it  to  the  highest  perfection.  "Our  Home"  is  an  honest 
endeavor  to  answer  this  difficult  question.  As  the  subject  is  one  which 
concerns  the  people  at  large,  the  discussion  is  in  popular  form ;  but  it  is  at 
the  same  time  thoroughly  earnest  and  sincere.  The  list  of  topics  is  of  it- 
self sufficient  to  show  the  extent  of  the  subject,  and  the  many  good  things 
which  the  reader  will  find  within  these  430  pages.  It  is  a  book  which 
ought  to  find  its  way  into  every  home. 

REV.  JOHN  G.  DAVENPORT,  D.  D., 

PASTOR  2ND  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH,  WATERBURY,  CONN. 
From  an  examination  of  "Our  Home".  I  find  it  a  worthy  treatment 
from  a  popular  standpoint  of  a  most  important  theme.  In  these  days 
when  the  family  and  home  are  so  violently  assailed,  it  is  well  for  us  to 
look  carefully  at  the  foundations  of  our  domestic  happiness,  and  at  the 
methods  by  which  it  may  be  preserved. 

FROM  THE  GARDNER  RECORD,  (MASS.) 

The  name  ;  'Our  Home  or  the  Key  to  a  Nobler  Life"  is  the  key  no^e  to  the 
book  and  expresses  in  itself  the  beautiful  lesson  ouhome  life  taught  in  the 
work.  To  be  fully  appreciated  it  must  be  read  and  re-read ;  new<  ideas 
and  new  thoughts  suggest  themselves  at  each  reading.  In  a  word  it  is  a 
companion  for  every  member  of  the  family. 

REV.  L.  TENNEY,  D.  D.,  BARRE,  VT., 
SUPT.  OP  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  AND  PRES.  OF  BARRE  ACADEMY. 
The  volume  entitled  "Our  Home"  is  judiciously  arranged,  pleasantly 
written  and  is  a  beautiful  book.    It  will  interest,  instruct  and  profit  all 
who  give  it  a  caref-u  perusal.    It  should  be  in  every  home. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANC 
EDUCATION  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  LIBRARY 
This  book  if  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JAN     9    1975 
T.-CE/VED 


Form  L9— 10m-7.'78(R1960s8)— 3.59 


UCLA-ED/PSYCH  Library 

HO  734  S245o 


